A Moment of Grace
by DriannaHarper
Summary: Hermione Granger leaves the wizarding world after the final battle. Torn between her new friends at Angel Investigations, and the expectations back home, what should she do?
1. Chapter 1

_*I do not own the characters or original content of either series. The Potterverse is owned by the wonderful JK Rowling, and Angel is owned by Joss Whedon and Fox. I merely take their creations out for a vacation every once and a while.*_

In the days after the defeat of the Dark Lord, the entire wizarding world celebrated. Even the grounds of Hogwarts saw dozens of impromptu bonfires, hundreds of elf supplied drinks, and current students with alumni reveling day and night. There was little chastisement to be had by staff or parents for the younger fighters, and only serious breach of etiquette came at a price. Everyone was ready for the end of their time of fear and pain, and determined to enjoy themselves the best way they knew how.

Everyone but one lone witch.

Hermione wandered through the castle halls, taking in one joyous face after the other. When it became too much, she trailed off onto the grounds. The light from the bonfires was enough for her to see by, but not enough for anyone to notice her presence. No one did.

After the death of Voldemort, and the apprehension of the remaining Death Eaters by the Aurors, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had found each other in the wreckage and the crowds. After reuniting, the trio climbed the stairs to the Headmasters office, where Harry told the others of the memories Severus Snape had given him, his trip into the forest, and the reunion with Dumbledore at a ghostly King's Cross Station.

Once they'd finished their tales, the three returned to the Great Hall to help tend the wounded, and prepare the fallen for their families. The Golden Trio parted at the doors, each going a different way to lend assistance.

She hadn't seen either one of them since.

'_Well', she reasoned to herself. 'I've SEEN them. They just haven't seen me.' _

She slid like a phantom past another fire, easily dodging a drunk Seamus as he attempted to demonstrate a particularly unlikely dueling pose. The whole thing bothered her, and she was saddened to see she was the only one. She understood the relief they felt at finally being free, she felt it too. But for her, the cost was too high.

She couldn't quite forgive them for being so raucous. People had died, good people, lain out until only the day before, a handful of steps from where they were now. Those people deserved better than this. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin, Lavender, Professor Snape… They should be remembered with honor. This din of drunkenness and debauchery was hardly a fitting memorial.

Coming to a stop near the entrance to the castle, shadowed by a ruined wall, she watched her two best friends with their group of devotees. Harry was firmly in the embrace of Ginny Weasley, and Ron was speaking to the crowd with Parvati on one side and Pansy Parkinson on the other. Both witches were giving each other speculative looks, and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Ron didn't know what he was about to get himself in to. She moved on, entering the castle.

A lot of people were, no doubt, surprised that she and Ron hadn't immediately begun a torrid affair of some kind once the dust of battle settled. If they'd asked her, she could have told them that it was never going to happen. She loved her friend, but as just that- a friend. She'd been in love with someone else for far too long to even consider trying it on with Ronald. She was glad that he hadn't been hurt when she told him, though she'd left out the fact that her heart belonged to someone else. That would have led to more questions than she wanted to answer. Besides, it was unrequited, and she knew it.

For seven years, she'd watched and loved and kept the whole thing to herself. And she knew the exact moment she realized that she'd given her heart away, and could do nothing to retrieve it. It was in a terrifying room, full of flame and a puzzle. She'd reasoned her way through to the answer, and given Harry the potion to move forward through the black flames. She looked at him for what could have been the last time, and that was it. His bravery, his steadfastness, his determination combined in her eyes and her heart, and she'd fallen hard.

She was eleven years old, and had assured herself that it was just a crush. She was far too young to be in love with anyone, and she refused to be lumped in with the groupies that wanted a piece of the famous Harry Potter. She would get over it. He was her best friend, and that was that.

But it didn't go away. Over the years, as they grew closer and had to depend on each other, her feelings only got clearer. By the time they were desperately clinging to a hippogriff to save a condemned man, she knew it was love. She still fought back. When he came back to the school by portkey, clinging to Cedric Diggory's body, she burned with the need to hold him, to help console him. In the Department of Mysteries, when Dolohov's hex hit her, her only thought was that she wouldn't be around to watch his back.

By the time Ronald abandoned them during their horocrux hunt, she'd almost allowed herself a glimmer of hope that he might turn to her in loneliness. He did, but in his usual, brotherly way. She crushed that vicious gleam of possibility way down her soul, and didn't let it surface again.

The only person she'd ever spoken to of the whole mess was her attempt at dating in her fourth year. Viktor was surprisingly insightful, for as much as he gave the persona of a jock. They'd kept in touch since then, and it was nice to have at least one friend to mull it over with. Viktor had dropped not so subtle hints that Harry was a lucky wizard, to have such a witch so devoted to him, and that he would like to find someone as dedicated one day. While flattered at the implication, she managed to explain that she'd not use another friend to force away her heartache. He took it quite gracefully, but he never lost interest entirely.

Entering the castle proper, she leaned against a wall for a moment. She'd always loved this school, and hated seeing it so abused. She turned to rest her cheek on the stone behind her, for a moment feeling the inherent magic in the building touch her own inner power. She felt a bit of the sadness in her recede, Hogwarts comforting its student as it always did. She loved the school, and she hated leaving it. But it was for the best.

She moved up the stairs, and made her way to the Gryffindor common room. The boys may have forgotten about her in their celebrating, but they'd come looking eventually. At least, she hoped they would. Best to leave their letter here, where they'd spent so many evenings together. Pulling an envelope from her beaded bag, she set it on the mantel piece. For a long moment, she stood reminiscing, thinking of all the games of exploding snap that were played here, the pranks pulled by the twins, parties after Quidditch matches. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and left, quickly making her way to the dungeons.

She let herself into the potions classroom, then beyond, into Professor Snape's private brewing room. She doubted that Slughorn even knew it existed. Professor Snape had been a deeply private man, and she'd been lucky that he'd allowed her access in her time as a student.

During her fifth year, she'd pooled every last bit of Gryffindor courage she had, and had approached the Potions master. While she was notorious for being the top in all her classes, Potions was where her passion really was, and she wanted to explore the opportunity afforded her. She knew the Professor was a world renowned brewer, and with him in the castle with her, she grabbed whatever chance she had to receive tuition from him.

It took all of her nerve, and almost a month to wear him down. He did not want to give her additional brewing time, absolutely refused to spend more than class time in her company, and would not allow her in his laboratory. Finally, after a pointed reminder that she'd successfully brewed, if not applied, Polyjuice in her second year, he gave in to her tactics.

"I would not wish to see what you would come up with if left to your own devices. I will, however, be sure to have the prefects check the first floor bathrooms for unsanctioned potions."

She'd spent the next two years working with him, and while she would not call them friends, she at least thought they had the beginning of a friendship that could continue once she was no longer a student. His seeming betrayal at the end of her sixth year cut her deeply. She couldn't speak of him around anyone without provoking a round of 'Snape bashing', but she always had an uneasy feeling that they were missing something. She'd spent too much time around the man, seen how haggard he'd gotten after every meeting with the Death Eaters, to believe he had really turned on Dumbledore.

Wandering to his tidy desk, she sat down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

"Oh, Professor," she spoke to the darkness, "We all misjudged you so badly. And you were here, alone, knowing we all thought the worst. I'm so sorry. I knew something wasn't right, I should have figured it out. You deserved so much better than you received.

"We've more in common than you knew, too. I'm in love with my best friend, Lily Evans' son, and he'll never look at me the way I want him to. The way you wanted his mother to look at you. I wish you had survived. Well, for more than one reason, of course. But we could have commiserated our bad luck together, here in the dungeons, brewing and calling the rest of the world a bunch of dunderheads. Out there, the world keeps on turning, they're all drinking and shagging and acting like it hasn't all changed. And all I want to do is hide down here, bottling fame and brewing glory."

She sat up and opened her eyes, looking around the familiar room. She'd likely never see it again. Glancing down at the desk, she found a large envelope with her name written on the front. With a frown, she picked it up and opened it. A large stack of papers came out, along with a smaller envelope.

Reading the top sheet of paper, her eyes went wide. It was an application to the Ministry on her behalf. There was extensive documentation of the time she'd spent in her private lessons, as well as a listing of the research and experimental potions she'd worked on. It listed her hours as being numerous enough to be qualified as an apprenticeship, and if she created and defended a thesis, she would have met the requirements to be awarded the title of Potions Mistress.

She set the bundle down with shaking hands, and picked up the smaller envelope. Like the other, it had her name on it. Unlike the first envelope, though, this one had handwriting she recognized on the front. This was from Professor Snape himself. She broke the wax seal on the back, and drew out a sheet of parchment.

_Miss Granger-_

_If you have found this, then I expect the final days of the war have come. I also must assume that Mister Potter was successful in defeating the Dark Lord, and our side has won. I do say our side, Miss Granger, for I hope you have learned by now that I never turned back to the dark once I'd escaped it. _

_I must expect, also, that I did not survive the falling of He Who Must Not Be Named. These pages would not be here for you to find otherwise. I have always anticipated this, so do not grieve on my account. _

_I have never been good company, and I applaud you for being so firm in your desire to further your career that you would brave the Bat of the dungeons. Included for you are copies of all your work, and the proper paperwork for your apprenticeship. You have earned it._

_Praise does not come easily from me, so I will do as I can. Your capacity as a Potioneer far surpasses any brewer of your age, and has even exceeded many of my contemporaries. For me to refuse to acknowledge your ability would be remiss. I have made many mistakes in my life, and I will not make that last one in death._

_In these last few years, there were very few that would care to be in my presence, let alone seek it out willingly. I'd like to think that towards the end, we developed an accord. In time, I would like to think we could have even been friends. As such, I ask one thing of you. Dead men have little to do with the living, but I ask none the less._

_Pursue your education. In time, you could become a legendary Mistress. You have all the tools you need. Do not throw them aside to become the next Molly Weasley. Be the amazon you can be, and shine as brightly for as long as you can. Be the legacy that I could never be. For me. For the betterment of the future. But most of all, for yourself. It is my last wish._

_Your friend-_

_Severus Snape, Potions Master_

She was openly weeping by the time she finished reading the missive. "Oh, Severus. I think, in spite of everything, that you may have truly been my best friend for the last two years. I'm so sorry I'll never get a chance to tell you. I'll miss you, my friend."

Standing, she wiped the tears from her face and collected all the papers back into the large envelope. "And you don't know me quite as well as you thought. I'm hardly going to throw away my work so easily. What you've asked of me is exactly what I'd planned anyway. So your wish is fulfilled. I'll do the best I can, work the hardest I can force from myself, and when asked why, it'll be because of my good friend, the Great War hero Severus Snape. I won't let them forget you."

She tucked the envelope into her bag and travelled around the room, picking up items to add here and there. There was her favorite stirring rod. On the wall was the cauldron she and Snape had fought over on many occasions, the one that had been both their favorites. A couple of books with thorough notes scrawled into the margins in his handwriting. Finally, with watery eyes, she left, re-warding the secret lab and making her way out of the dungeon.

Quickly walking to the seventh floor, she paced in front of a blank wall until the room of requirement appeared. It looked as it had days earlier, when she and the boys had made it back to the castle. Opening the portrait of Ariana, she found that the room had said its own goodbye to her, with one final gift. Just inside the tunnel leading to the Hog's Head, she found the Half Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making.

She leaned her head on the doorframe, whispering "Thank you," to the castle. Then she straightened, and made her way down the tunnel. The portrait closed quietly behind her.

It wasn't Harry or Ron that found her letter. They didn't notice she'd gone until the first official Ministry event that she failed to appear for. She had already been out of the country for a week. When they began asking around after her, they were approached by a subdued Neville Longbottom, who offered them the letter he'd retrieved from the common room.

_Dear Harry and Ronald-_

_Please forgive me for not telling you I was leaving. I was afraid you would try to talk me out of it. The grief over the end of the war is too much for me to be celebrating with the rest of you, and I have to get out._

_I'm going to Australia to try to retrieve my parents. After that, I'm planning on travelling. I can't be in wizarding England right now, I just can't. But I've always wanted to travel, to learn from other countries and cultures. With us all being at loose ends right now, it seemed the best time._

_I'm sure any post that you send will get to me eventually, and I'll write you as time allows. Enjoy the peace time as much as possible. I'm sure it'll be strange after the last few years!_

_Love-_

_Hermione_

They would not see her again for five years.


	2. Learning Outside of School

It wasn't until she'd spent twenty minutes haggling over the price of her room in a dingy lodge in Romania that Hermione stopped to revel in her latest addition.

After three years of travelling, she'd figured out that she had a knack for languages. She was already fluent in French and Italian from the holidays her parents had taken her on in her younger years, and had a handle on Latin from school. But almost every country she meandered into, she picked up the local dialect in a matter of weeks, if not earlier.

But now she was wondering if her research into potions ingredients wasn't almost as important to her as learning the local dialect. She knew she was a know it all, but this was getting to be second nature.

She had crossed from England into France in her first week. She spent almost two months studying with the senior potions masters in Paris before travelling on to Germany. She had six months there, learning the language and absorbing what the masters could teach her. She went then to Italy, and applied to the Ministry there for her license.

Not only had she studied in Italy, but it had been in that most exacting court that Severus had earned his own Mastery. In deference to him, she wanted approval on her own merit and his teaching. In being granted the title of Mistress from the Minister himself, she felt she'd settled the last wish of the bravest man she'd ever met. She was also certain she could meet any more challenges that faced her, with his trust and faith at her back.

She'd wandered for a bit, then. All over the world, studying with Masters and priests, shaman and scientists, all over the globe. She got a bit of mail from back home, now and again. She wrote letters even more infrequently.

She didn't think that her friends back home had ever figured out her ruse. Like Severus, she'd not expected to survive the war. The memory charms placed on her parents could not be undone. She hadn't bothered going.

Instead, she went to the Amazon, to revel in the hot sun and thick jungle that hid so many treasures that were at risk. Deforestation meant that desperately needed potions ingredients were at risk of disappearing all together.

She went to Egypt, seeking out street vendors in the wizarding world that still sold mummy ash, which was necessary in precious pain medication for the elderly.

She went to the Congo, searching out specific vines used in binding potions for children that were so sickly their magic threatened to tear them apart.

She studied, and she learned on every trip. By the time she made it to Japan, she had almost two dozen languages in her grasp, and was eager to add to it. She was also getting tired.

It was almost four years of travelling, nonstop motion that ground her down. She needed time to process what she'd gathered, use something more than a mobile lab for her experimental potions research. She had added a rucksack to her purse, finally acknowledging that she couldn't charm such a small item to hold so much. Moving from country to country with only what she had on her started to chafe.

After Japan, she found herself in the States, Hawaii first. She let herself spend a month there, relaxing and enjoying the different atmosphere. Brewing there was different, too. Everyone seemed much more at ease, and she wasn't sure if she liked it. She'd gotten used to an exactness expected by Severus, and brewed with a sort of determination. The mellow attitude didn't suit, and so she spent the rest of her time there enjoying the ambiance and free flowing food and liquor. The massive amounts of sunshine didn't hurt.

After that, she went to Seattle. She received a rather demanding owl from Harry while learning the joys of mass transit. That poor owl would never be the same. Once she'd taken it home and fed it treats until it was happier, she read the letter.

Harry wanted her back in England, and he wanted it now. He didn't come out and say it, but she gathered that it was more a request from Ginny. They'd announced their engagement six months previously, and Ginny wanted Hermione as her maid of honor. Hermione thought Ginny should pick an actual friend instead, but knew the younger witch wanted the entire Trio at the alter for her wedding.

There was no way to tell Harry and Ginny that the idea of watching the man she loved stand up and marry another woman would break her heart, much less what would happen standing up there with them. She sent the owl back with a kind but firm refusal.

She made her way down the coast, learning quickly to love the US. It was so open, and cheery. Asking questions just because you wanted answers didn't come with as much derision as she was used to. People in the States loved to talk. Ask them a question, and many of them would go on for hours. She got used to bringing a ball point pen and notebook with her wherever she went. The information she got was too interesting not to.

She was fascinated by Los Angeles. She could spend years there, learning what there was to know. Not only was there a Ministry for her to draw on, but there were hundreds of underground neighborhoods to explore. There were witches and weres, vampires and demons, necromancers and part-bloods. She was in awe, and would have been ready to spend ages there, but for one problem.

It was a metropolis. A sprawling city. There were no natural potions ingredients to gather, nothing new to explore. It bothered her, but she was resigned. She planned to head towards New Orleans next, and stop wherever she liked along the way. Somewhere, there had to be a good place for her to set up a semi-permanent lab.

She was leaving a diner, still dragging her tongue against her teeth and trying to rid herself of the burned coffee taste, when she heard a woman scream. Even after four years, it was her nature to run towards screaming rather than away. She turned into an alley way, and found a woman being attacked by a much larger man.

"Oi, now! None of that, you let her alone!"

The man turned, and she realized that it wasn't a man at all. Brandishing her wand, she fell into a defensive stance.

"Right, you best be off now. I don't want to have to get violent, but I am good at it. Go on, now, shift!"

The man that was really a vampire snarled, and started to rush her, dropping his victim. She prepared to attack, and heard rather than saw a counter attack come from behind her.

A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the vampires shoulder, and a figure carrying an axe shoved its way past her. She watched as the man engaged in battle with the vampire, and scooted around the two to get to the victim.

The woman was clearly enthralled, but not harmed. Hermione turned back to the fight. Two men were now engaged with the creature, and there was a woman at the entrance to the alley calling out helpful hints.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lumos Solem."

At the spark of sunshine, the vampire froze, allowing the men to dispatch him. There wasn't a sound or movement in the alley for almost a full minute. Then Hermione stood, pulling up the scared woman with her.

"Well, that's all right then, isn't it? Lesson there, love. Don't go into alleys with strange men. It's never a good idea. Shall we get you a taxi?"

The woman nodded slowly, and they procured a taxi for her. Handing her in, Hermione handed over enough to make sure she got home securely. "And I'll know, if she isn't okay. You know that, right? I Will Know. Got it? Yeah, cheers."

She turned towards her somewhat helpful co-rescuers. "So. Fancy a pint?"

The tall, bald black man grinned. "Yo, English. Found you another one from the mother land to talk to."

The gorgeous woman in the fitted clothing answered. "Never mind that, jack ass. She's obviously a witch, and since she was the one in my vision, she must be the one we're…

"Hi," dimples turned on Hermione. "I'm Cordelia. The doofus over there is Gunn, and glasses here is Wesley. You're a witch, right?"

Hermione looked at them for a moment. "I am. I'm also on vacation. And what did you mean by vision? I don't believe in divination."

"Oh, I'm not talking your usual nickel and dime prophecy. I'm talking live action, I have visions of who to help every other day, here. And I had one of you earlier today."

"Of me? I doubt that. I'm sorry, I hate to cast aspersions on you, I really do. But I've only been here a few days, and I'm leaving tomorrow, so I don't think-"

Cordelia flew backwards, and Gunn only managed to catch her at the last moment.

"West. Thirty Third. Oh, no. They have a necromancer."

Gunn and Wesley grimaced. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you have the location in your head?"

Cordy nodded.

"Right, just a sec. '_Legilemens'_." She concentrated. "Oh, yeah, they're up to something rotten. I'll go take care of it, shall I?"

All three objected. With a sigh, Hermione caved. "Right. Gunn, was it, you take Cordelia back wherever she's safest. Protect her. You, Wesley, yeah? Either go with them, or with me."

Half an hour later, Hermione and Wesley were covered in brains, bits, and blood. The necromancer had been taken care of, however. And all of the dozen armed guard.

She flicked a bit of zombie flesh off her fingernail. "That's repulsive. Could you have not gotten a better handle on things before now? The Ministry at least should have sent a team in."

"The American Ministry is a bit slack. And since the three of us are operating on our own, we don't have as much pull as we'd like."

"Wait. Just the three of you. You, Gunn, and Cordelia? Fighting on your own?"

She got a nod in response. "Are you bloody THICK?"

Wesley's head came up at that. "You may not be a wizard, but you certainly have status as a sorcerer. You, a seer, and a human slayer are in business together, and you didn't think to seek help from the Ministry?"

"Well… we used… We used to work with Angel. And I used to work for the Watchers Council."

"You worked for the Council. Does that mean you heard about the War? The one that the Council wouldn't help with? Oh, wait. No, answer the first bit, then I'll be brilliant."

"Did I know about the War? Yes. But the Council sent me here to the States to fail at my first assignment as a watcher that year, so you'll have to forgive me the rest."

"I will. And I do. I fought in the war. In a way, I'm still fighting in the war. I've not found a home since."

She pondered the grit under her nail. "All right, I accept."

"Wh- you- what do you- what?"

"You used to work 'with' Angel. I'm guessing that would be that useless Angelus character. You're on your own now, and trying to do the best you can. That isn't much without money and magic. I can help with both, for now. This isn't permanent. This hasn't anything to do with my real job, or purpose. I just…"

Hermione deflated at that point, and looked at the gravel she stood on. "I help people. Mostly those that think they're beyond hope."

"You help the hopeless."

"Yeah, I do."

Wesley took her arm, and looked her in the eye with his mental shields down. She pulled Cordelia's address from him easily. As she apparated them, she heard him say-

"So do we."


	3. Still An Echo

There were quite a few times that Hermione almost left in the first few months in LA. She almost left when she figured out that while the three remaining members of Angel Investigations knew they needed her help, they didn't trust her.

Taking Wesley to Cordelia's apartment might have been a bad idea. Cordy and Gunn certainly weren't expecting to have the two of them appear in the living room with a loud snap. Hermione'd almost been beheaded, and Gunn hadn't been far behind with his axe. It took a few minutes to explain apparition, and the three of them kept looking at her like she was some sort of caged animal.

The real good that came out of that night was her getting to meet Dennis. Hermione and Cordelia's ghost had gotten on splendidly, which may or may not have helped with the trust issue the rest of them had. She'd been in the living room talking to him while the others were in Cordy's bedroom arguing, when she caught wind of their distrust. She'd almost cursed the twin's extendible ears, but she knew she needed to have a clear understanding of her place here.

She'd been a member of the wizarding world for so long, she'd forgotten what it was like for Muggles. The easy use of magic, the teleportation, the mind reading all added up to them thinking she was a time bomb waiting to take them down. She'd been close to tears, and about to leave, when Dennis convinced her to stay. The poltergeist told her how understanding the group could be, when given the chance. And when they returned to the living room and saw her reaction to their misgivings, they'd reacted the way Dennis had expected. Cordelia immediately pulled her into a hug, Wesley went to make her a cup of tea, and Gunn shifted uncomfortably on the carpet before engulfing both women in his arms.

She almost left after the incident with the zombie police force. The others had left her out of the initial plan, and once she got involved, she'd been livid. Wesley had been shot, there were kids in trouble, and no one had let her know. After the whole episode was contained, she'd railed at the three of them. Only Wesley's injury kept her from spewing some of the most intimate details of the War at them, as proof of what she was able to help with. She'd stormed out after her diatribe, determined to leave them to their own devices.

It was Lorne in that case that calmed her down. After she stomped her way into Caritas and proceeded to get blindingly drunk, he plied her with water, put her to bed, and went to give the three a piece of his mind. Even without singing, he could tell how much pain she'd been in, how lonely she'd been. If they wanted to keep their witch, they'd have to start trusting her.

A week later, she'd gotten on stage for him and sung her broken heart out. Lorne's head almost crumpled under the force of her, and he wasn't ashamed that he cried in front of the others. His reaction was the last bit of confirmation that they needed to accept her as one of their own.

She had her rucksack packed, and was almost to the local apparition point when they caught up to her, after they went back to Angel. She flat out refused to work for a vampire. It took a lot of begging on his behalf, Wesley's word that she'd be working with her team and not FOR the vampire, and the promise of the hotels kitchen as an experimental potions lab to get her to stay.

She sometimes wondered why she even did. There were plenty of other places she could set up to brew. She didn't like the city that much, and she didn't trust the heir of Aurelius as far as she could Muggle toss him. She liked the rest of them well enough, but they weren't nearly as close as she'd been to her friends back home, and she'd left them without a thought. It certainly wasn't for the money. She ended up helping to pay the bills more often than she received a pay check. Thank Godric for her Order of Merlin stipend!

Then, Cordelia went missing. In a library. The whole thing incensed her, and she was the first to demand that Lorne help them travel to his home world to save the Seer. Libraries were sacred, and to have her friend harmed in one was unconscionable.

It was in Pylea that she realized the real reason she hadn't left. She, Gunn, and Wesley were helping the rebels plan the attack that would lead them to recovering Cordy. She had given up magic on that world, as it tended to be unpredictable, and was using the skills she'd picked up travelling to negotiate, and fight by hand when there was a need for it. She glanced over to where Wes was making a rousing speech before the attack on the castle, and it clicked for her.

He had a sword in one hand, was gesturing with the other, and a drop of sweat rolled down his neck and into his shirt. She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, and she knew. She'd done it again. She'd gone and fallen for the brave, determined, kind hearted man that would never feel the same for her. And to make it worse, this one was smart and stoic as well. She might as well have put her favorite bits of Harry and Severus into a blender, and concocted what she wanted.

She forced herself to look away before anyone could see the tears in her eyes. Four and a half years, she'd travelled the entire planet, gone to another one, in fact, and she ended up in the same damned place. "Oh, Severus, you'd be laughing your little black heart out at me right now. Stupid Gryiff know it all."

"I caught about one in three words there. What'cha saying, girl?"

She startled, not having seen Gunn walk up behind her. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just a memory. This isn't my first battle, you know."

"Yeah, my man Wes said something about there being a witch war over in merry olde. I never did get details on it, though."

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about it. She forced herself not to raise a hand up to touch the scar on her chest from Dolohov's hex, but couldn't keep herself from rubbing her sleeve over the carved word Bellatrix had left on her flesh.

"Trust me, Gunn. You don't want details."

"That ain't the first time you've done that. With your arm. Don't think I never noticed. What happened?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, keep saying it's nothing, like I'm not gonna ask again. We're about to go into a fight, and I gotta know if you can hold your own."

Her head came up defiantly, "I can handle myself in battle. I've done it before, many times. I started fighting when I was eleven, I'm not going to start falling apart now."

"Eleven?" Came a quiet voice from behind her. She stifled a groan when she realized that in focusing her attention on Gunn, she'd been ignoring Wesley. He'd managed to sneak up on her.

"What of it? When it comes to defeating an evil, everyone does what they have to. And if adults don't listen to you, you do it yourself. I may have been on holiday for the last four years, but for the seven before that I was fighting for my life, for my friend's lives, for the freedom of the planet. I won't apologize for it."

"No one would ask you to. May I see your arm, please?"

She shrank away from both of the men staring intently at her. "No. Why does it matter? I've worked with you for six months, you've never cared before. It doesn't change anything."

"No, it doesn't change anything, but Charles is right. It's something that you do a lot when you're nervous, and I rather think it best to get out in the open."

"Yeah, and for the record, just cause we didn't ask doesn't mean we don't care. We just figured you'd tell us when you wanted to, you know?"

"Please."

It was the hushed request, and the outstretched hand that made her give in. She cursed herself inwardly even as she placed her hand in Wesley's. It was the same kind of plea Harry always used, one she could never refuse. She looked away as Wesley carefully turned her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Both men inhaled sharply as her scar was revealed.

"What's that mean, English?"

"It's a slanderous term for a witch that comes from a non wizarding background." He brushed his thumb over the word.

She yanked her arm away. "So, now you know. Feel better? You've got proof that after hours of torture, I can stand up to an insane racist bitch that carves slurs into me without divulging information. Happy? Trust me to help storm the fucking castle with you? Or should I go wait by the car, like the helpless little girl you obviously think I am?"

If she'd been looking at them, she'd have seen the furious exchange of looks the men made. Gunn finally spoke up.

"How old?"

"What?"

"How old were you when crazy bitch did that?"

"Why does my age matter? I was hexed badly enough to require a stay at Saint Mungo's when I was fifteen, being put under the Cruciatus repeatedly was just par for the course."

She heard Wesley hiss in a breath, and realized a bit too late that anyone trained by the Council would know exactly what Unforgivables were.

"Fuck. It's not important, Wesley. It was five years ago."

"I was trained in the curses when I was a watcher. The Lestranges and Crouch used that curse to drive a couple of Aurors into insanity. Repeated use of the Cruciatus is enough to drive anyone mad."

"Yeah, well, I had more important things to do at the time."

"Tell us."

"We've more important things to do at this time, too."

"You know, I don't think we do," Gunn interjected. "We got about four hours before this whole thing goes down. I think that's enough time to tell us about what ever this crus-thing is. And I know I want to hear about it."

"I was involved in a war for seven years, and you want to hear about it in four hours?"

"See, that's the part that's all hinkey. You keep saying you were 'involved with' this war deal, but that makes it sound like you were some kind of soldier. What I'm hearing about this curse thing makes it sound like you were front line kind of people."

"Fine." She walked to the tree line and sat down on a stump. The guys followed after her.

"There was a war. A dark wizard wanted to 'purify' the bloodlines of wizarding society, which meant anyone that wasn't pureblood. Muggleborn 'Mudbloods' like me, and Muggles alike. Muggle would be the term for you, Gunn, and everyone else that isn't a witch or wizard at least a generation old. He was defeated once, in 1981. He tried to murder a baby named Harry Potter. He killed Harry's parents, but when he cursed the baby, it rebounded and killed him instead.

"That baby grew up to be one of my best friends. When the Dark Lord came back, he and Harry were pitted against each other in ultimate battle. We spent seven years fighting him. A lot of things happened in those seven years. We won. The end."

She stood. "There, that wasn't so hard."

Gunn grabbed her hand and pulled her back to her seat. "Nu-uh, girl. You're gonna have to do better than that. I get that it's a long story, and I wanna hear it, but for now, I wanna hear about this curse thing. So get talking."

She threw a pleading look at Wesley, who shook his head. "You lot aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Both men shook their heads.

"Right. In the last year of the war, Harry, our friend Ronald, and myself became the focus of Voldemort's wrath. We were the most hunted people on the planet, so we had to go into hiding. We managed for about six months before we were grabbed."

"If I recall, the end of the War was not long before the Mayor's ascension in Sunnydale. A year, at most. That would have made you, what, seventeen?" Wesley asked.

"By the Final Battle, I was eighteen. But yes, your timing is close."

"You're telling me three teenagers were public enemy number one, on the run, from some resurrected bad wizard dude? How the hell does that happen?"

"I don't know, Gunn. How do a bunch of homeless teenagers end up fighting vampires? You do what you have to. I spent months preparing for the fact that we'd have to go into hiding eventually. And we didn't do too badly until we were snatched. We went hungry a lot, and we were ready to give up and face the Dark Lord on a daily basis, but we survived."

"Until you got snatched."

"Yes. The Snatchers caught up with us, and took us to the home of one of the Dark Lord's generals. They locked up Harry and Ron, and decided I'd be likely to give them the information they wanted. I was tortured by repeated use of the Cruciatus curse, as I said, and when I wouldn't give them the information they wanted, they started with knives. Not long after I received my permanent reminder, we managed to escape."

"I notice you're leaving out quite a few names. Who was it that tortured you?" Wesley asked.

She closed her eyes. "I'd say it doesn't matter, but I know you two won't let it go now. It was Bellatrix Lestrange."

"No!" She and Gunn both stared at him at his outburst. "The Lestranges were put in prison after they drove the Longbottom Aurors mad. It was public record!"

"Prisons have a way of being broken out of, especially when the man pulling the strings is the most powerful dark wizard in history. She's dead now, though, so you can relax. Ron's mother killed her in the final battle. And I've visited the Longbottoms, I'm very good friends with their son. I'm well aware of what could have happened to me."

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione had an almost painful bout of déjà vu. A man she wanted but couldn't have, and a best friend, and herself. Sitting in a forest, waiting to go into battle. Merlin help her, she was repeating everything over again. She almost couldn't take the pain in her heart.

But she withstood it. Even when it was trebled by the newest addition to their group. She was almost grateful that there were no more questions about the war. Everyone was concerned about making sure Fred was all right.

And no one noticed that she flinched every time she heard the name. She felt badly at first. It wasn't fair to the poor woman that her very name brought up the grief of losing Fred Weasley every time she was addressed. And if they realized she always referred to the physicist as 'Winifred', no one said anything.

But then she had to watch the spectacle unfold around her. Angel was in love with Cordy. Fred was infatuated with Angel. Wesley and Gunn were smitten by Fred. Hermione started spending more and more time in her lab. And no one noticed.

It was just like being back at Hogwarts. Drama and teen angst, and she really expected better from a two hundred year old vampire. She started thinking about moving on again. She'd had close to a year in LA, and she'd gotten a lot of her notes together. It had only been Cordelia's surety that she had to be with them for a specific reason that kept her from leaving earlier.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. After travelling for so long, it was nice to be a part of something again, to belong. But she didn't, anymore. She didn't really have a place. Her offers of translation assistance were brushed off, her shield charms not needed. The only things they ever really asked for from her were potions, and any apothecary could provide those.

She quietly began making plans to leave. She started thinking about going back home. Maybe it was time. She could rent her own building for research. She was sure that she could get funding, as one of the War Veterans. Or maybe Italy, they'd offered her a spot there, once they'd gone over Severus's notes and realized how perfectly he'd trained her. She gave notice on her lease, and started shipping her things back to her parents long abandoned house in England.

And then, Angel bought the wrong damned tickets. They all went to the ballet instead of the concert Gunn wanted to see. In just one night, in a handful of hours, everything went to hell.


	4. An Echo Explained

Hermione wasn't an idiot. She had spent seven years in school, working towards defeating a dark wizard. She'd also spent six years living with other teen aged girls, and had learned quickly that you either fit in with the group, or you didn't. She hadn't been invited on the dress shopping outing Fred and Cordy went on, nor had she been extended tickets from her 'team'. That didn't mean she wouldn't be there, looking as best she could. After Lavender and Parvati's forceful use of charms at the Yule Ball, she'd picked up enough to make sure she could make a damned entrance.

A friend of hers from New York happened to be attending, and wanted to introduce Hermione to her latest attempt at a third husband. Martha was a dear, genuine person, and Hermione had done her best to live up to whatever had been said about her. She kept up polite conversation with the couple, trying not to let her alarm show. But she knew something was very wrong.

She caught sight of the Angel Investigations crew as soon as they walked in. She ignored the trip in her heart at Wesley in a tux, and kept an eye on the lot of them. They didn't pick up on the dark magic oozing from the entire building. At least the vampire and the sorcerer should have. She'd felt it four blocks away, and in a minicab to boot. It was making her skin prickly.

She let herself be drawn down to the main level, and accepted the glass of champagne offered her by Martha's date. It took Cordelia less than a minute to find her, identify the woman she was with, and move in. Martha was an actress, and Hermione knew the aspiring thespian would want to be introduced. That wasn't going to happen. Not with how jilted Hermione felt at being left out of this whole excursion. She took a small amount of pleasure in noticing the second, and then third looks that all three men gave her.

"Hermione! We didn't know you'd be here," Cordy chirped.

"I didn't know that you would," she returned flatly. "My invitation was extended two months ago. Who's watching the baby?"

They all looked confused. "Well, I gave him to Lorne," Angel said. "We thought-"

"You thought you'd all go out for the evening, and Lorne and I'd just take care of what you didn't feel like handling. Nice. Did you even think about inviting him along? Or the fact that I haven't been in the building for a week. Did you think anything about that?"

"You haven't… what?"

She resisted the urge to tug at her hair. It'd taken an hour to charm it into the provocatively messy up do it was in, no use ruining it now. This evening was bound to get worse. "Martha, Clifford, please excuse me for just a moment while I speak with my colleagues. I'll join you before the curtain rises, I promise."

As Martha took the hint and tugged her date away, Hermione turned to the group. "I am not an employee of Angel Investigations. That has been made abundantly clear. I'm not 'one of you'," this was accompanied by aggravated finger quotes, "but as such, I am by no means under your control. The fact that you haven't even noticed I that I've not been to the hotel in a week underlines that."

A member of the dance troupe wandered by, muttering to himself in Russian. She watched him go, frowning. While trying to work out what he meant in her head, she didn't see the guilty looks being exchanged from the rest of the team. She did, however, notice when the man disappeared through a wall.

Shuffling from Angel focused her attention. "You know what? Hell with it. You're all a bunch of juvenile dunderheads, and you aren't worth the mental capacity I've afforded you. Bugger off."

She turned and strode towards the stairs to the private box she was sharing. In the corner of her mind, she congratulated herself that even in a dark blue laced up evening gown and with messy curls, she could still stalk the halls and berate idiots with the best of them. She could do Severus proud.

And she would do. Within seconds of seating herself, she honed in on the dark wizard sitting in a booth nearest the stage. As the ballet began, she was at once fascinated and disgusted. It was an elegant performance, and the mastery of the illusion was genius. But it was also perverted black arts. The creatures dancing so beautifully couldn't even be called ghosts. They were shades, and they were trapped souls.

She debated what to do until just before intermission. She could wait, and try to warn the vampire's crew, or she could try to take care of it alone. The very fact that she was internally distancing herself from them made her choice easy. They'd never really trusted her. And with their immature courtship dances muddling their minds, she didn't trust them. They were so busy with their hormones, they'd just get in her way. Years of dealing with her own unfulfilled wants left her with a much clearer head.

She made quiet noises to her mates about a loo run, and slipped out of the box. She didn't need her wand to guide her towards the darkest part of the building. A quick confundus charm made easy work of the security guard, and she found herself in an unending hallway. Looking either way, long lengths of darkness pressing on her from either side, she finally allowed herself a moment to reflect.

It had been just like this, at school. Her terrifying trip back from the library to the Gryffindor common room, the trip she didn't complete. She'd been all alone, scared, and hoping against hope that she was wrong. That the next turn wouldn't bring her to face a basilisk. That she could make it back to Harry, to tell him he wasn't losing his mind, there really was a monster only he could hear. If she could just make it to him, they could fix it. Even Penelope Clearwater's presence hadn't consoled her.

It wasn't like that this time. Harry wasn't here, no one was, and this was her job alone. She squared her shoulders, pulled her wand, and whispered, "Severus, help me." She then strode down the hallway.

It seemed to go on for miles and miles. She picked up on the repeating pattern immediately, and waited for a flaw to show. It took what seemed like an age to find the faint glimmer that masked a door. Even the fact that it led down instead of out couldn't curb her relief of being anywhere but in that damned hallway. She wasn't thrilled at having to move further underground, but the signature was almost throbbing from the basement level.

There, at the center of the building, was a box. It was about a foot all the way round, and made from the heart of an ash. It was one of the most exquisite things she'd ever seen. And it hurt, because she knew she'd have to destroy it. She dispelled the wards around it, and knelt down. Passing her hands over the outside, she could feel the souls entrapped. A tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke the words to free them. The gratitude that swept through her from the entrapped elevated and bolstered her conviction. They were free of the box, but still trapped in the building. She'd have to destroy the final illusion to free them entirely.

She tucked the box into her beaded bag, and made her way back up the stairs. The next step would be confronting the wizard himself. Knowing he was sitting there, in that comfortable boxed seat, while the rest of those poor souls clung together in a tiny box needled her. She started gathering what anger she could in preparation for their duel.

Once in the vast hallway again, she turned at the sound of metal on fabric. Wesley was walking towards her, dragging a sword limply in his hand. She immediately went to him.

"Are you all right? What happened? "She asked, darting forwards to catch him as he stumbled.

He fell to his knees, dropping the sword. Her attempt to stop his downward progress threw her on her ass. As she tried to recover some of her dignity, he suddenly growled, "You dance for ME!" He then knocked her rest of the way down, taking her mouth in a brutal kiss.

She could feel the edges of a shade in her personal shields, trying to get in. She forced it back out, and shifted slightly in the grip of the man on top of her. There was no yield, and she gave it no second thought when she responded to his demanding lips. She knew what was happening. The spirits in the building were taking their chances at a flesh encounter. The one opportunity she had at feeling and tasting the man she wanted was now, and she wasn't going to waste it, even if he was possessed. Her self-taught Slytherin skills told her that much over her Gryffindor pride.

His hips pinned hers down, and the only move she could make was a slight arch into his chest. He moaned lowly, and fisted his hands in her gown. When he moved his mouth to her neck, she did what she didn't want to, and whispered his name, releasing him from the dark spell he'd been under.

He froze. She knew the moment he was himself again, and he raised his head to look at her. They were still entwined on the carpet, chest to chest, his arms banded around her. She could feel the apology burbling up from her heart, ready to come out, when he brought his mouth back down to hers. She welcomed him immediately, and brought her hands up to tangle in his hair. This time when he moved against her, she didn't hesitate to respond, especially when he said her name so sweetly.

"We have to stop," he managed to say.

"I know. I've- oh gods - neutralized the main component in the basement," She trailed the last off on a moan.

"How is your dress managing to stay in place under duress?" He followed the question with a hand moving up the thigh that had managed to wrap around his hip. His lips were travelling right along her cleavage, to which she attributed the slightly muted sound of the question.

"Charms!" She shouted.

His head came up. "I'm sorry?"

"Charms. On my dress. And on the building, don't you see?"

He looked very confused. She would have expected it, except she'd never been in this scenario before. She took the opportunity to roll them over, and push herself slightly, her hands on either side of his head.

"Surely by now you've realized that the building is under dark magic."

"Yes, there's a wizard trying to control the prima ballerina."

"Yeah, figured that out a while ago. I've spent the last don't know how long cancelling out his magic and releasing the rest of the cast. That's them, swirling all around, possessing people."

A wounded look crossed his face, but she continued her speech before he could object. "That's them, there. They can't get anywhere near me, with my wards. It's also what cast out the man that created the spell, not long after you were possessed."

She leaned down slightly. "This IS you, isn't it, Wesley? Not a dark wizard? Not a shadow?"

She brushed his lips with hers, "This is you here, isn't it? I'll forgive you if you say it's not. That's all you have to do, and it's all forgotten."

He lunged up to meet her, a hand at the back of her neck. His other hand was on the back of her hip, keeping her in place. "This is me, Hermione. And it's you here, isn't it. No simple ghost could ever take you over."

Resisting the very strong urge to grind her hips down, she answered against his lips, "It's me, I'm not possessed. We have to finish this, though." She both groaned and grinned at the accompanying thrust and restrained moan she received. "Not that, we can figure that out later, though I am tempted. We have to find everyone else and fix this whole mess. I've freed the trapped souls from their chamber, but we have to destroy whatever it is that keeps them here. It'll be a power center. And I think I know what it is."

"We have to get back to Fred and Gunn, he's been hurt."

"Why didn't you say mmph-"she started, before he twisted her back under him, and stole another kiss. After a thorough snog, they finally helped each other to their feet. Hermione nicked the sword from him with only a slight objection.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities to get another one, and these are pants, anyway. They're bloody FOILS. Next time, I'll make sure to have proper swords in my bag when I go out. I trained in Italy, you know, I'm pretty sure I could take on a legion, if they made me mad enough."

She liked the look he gave her at that. It wasn't the usual 'Oh, that's Hermione, she'll figure out our charms homework for us,' or 'there's our witch, she'll make some bruise salve for this.'

It was more than that. There was respect in his eyes, and no small amount of pride. And there was lust there, she could tell from the way he tried not to glance at her chest or her legs. It was a look she'd never noticed before.

She held out her hand. "Right. Let's go save our idiots, and mangle up this moron's plan. I'm good at doing that."

He wrapped his hand in hers without pause. "I have no doubt that you are."

It wasn't until later that it came apart. She'd let Angel defeat the wizard and free the spirits with only an eye roll, and a comment_. 'Destroy his power center. It's kind of obvious. If you don't, I will, and that'll make you look silly.'_

She fought with the rest of them to defeat the puppets. She'd taken a sword blade to the shoulder, and a stab to the thigh. She easily gave way to Gunn's stomach wound when it came to treatment. His was by far the worse off. She sat by the entrance to the office, waiting for her turn, when she saw it. The same look he always gave.

After almost a year to catalog to looks that Wesley had, she recognized the longing, yearning look he always gave when it came to Fred. When the new couple left the office, she saw the want, plainly spoken, on his face.

She steeled herself against what was to come. A man with an erection was easily swayed. That was all it was. He was possessed, and having her throw herself at him wasn't exactly cricket. Of course he'd responded to her.

He responded to her slight questions with perfunctory responses. She ignored the blood dripping down her dress. And they both pretended to ignore the scroll in the corner. The one she could see was bleeding black magic, and he saw as the future.


	5. Sometimes It IS Easy Being Green

It took three days of fighting with him before she stormed out. She congratulated herself for not throwing any punches, but it was a close run.

After the cursed night at the theatre, Wesley became obsessed with what he thought was a prophecy. She could see from a mile away that it was a fake, and argued with him constantly. He'd sworn her to secrecy about the damned thing, not that she was likely to go trilling to the others. Cordelia was in her own universe with her barbarian lover, Angel was locked in with the baby, and Fred and Gunn were in a new lover's paradise.

After the wretched ending to the night, she'd retreated to her potions laboratory to heal herself. Wesley had been too obsessed with the prophecy and with Fred and Gunn to even notice her injuries, so she'd fixed herself up with her potions. Later, safely ensconced in her tub and bubbles in her heavily warded flat, she'd let herself shed tears for what she'd hoped would come to be. She'd had an hour of thinking that maybe, finally, she'd get what she wanted. She should have known it would end up the same way it always did.

The next day, she showed up at the hotel with new resolve. She'd show them all that this 'prophecy' was a fake, kiss the kid on the head, and leave. It was time. She wasn't going to stay and have her heart broken again.

What she hadn't realized was the determination of the other Brit. Nothing she said or did could sway him from his conviction that the prophecy was true. She'd tried spells, hexes, and failing that, proper logic. She was pretty sure the rest of the hotel could hear them shouting at each other, even with her noise cancelling wards. And after that third day, she'd given up making him see reason, and stomped out of the hotel. Even in his fury, he could see something was different. She'd never left before. She'd sulked, she'd pouted, she'd thrown things, and she'd even taken a chunk out of his office wall with her fist. But she'd never left. He called after her, voice almost gravelly from their screaming match.

"Where are you going? We haven't finished, yet!"

Without turning, she'd screamed back. "To talk to my best friend. He makes far more sense than you do."

"I thought I was your best friend."

At the door, she turned and snarled, "So did I." She then yanked the door open and disappeared into the sun lit porch.

The first day after she left, he managed to get through by keeping his anger going. The second day, he felt the doubt start to creep in. By the fourth day, he was almost desperate. This wasn't how he'd thought it would be.

Wesley had believed with his entire being that the prophecy was correct. He'd planned on convincing Hermione that it was real, and then they could plan what to do next. He had thought that they could take Connor together, hide him far from his sociopath father, and raise him as a family. Between the two of them, they could keep the baby safe from anything.

At the end of the fifth day, he was so distraught that he spewed out the whole sordid thing to the other members of his family. They were all furious that he hadn't said anything, but agreed that until the prophecy was disproven, it'd be safest for Fred and Gunn to take Connor to stay at Cordeila's apartment. They brought him back every day to visit, and the distance seemed to temper Angel's creeping insanity for the time being.

That night was the lowest for Wesley. His trust in the prophecy was wavering, and when that doubt started nagging at him, he started seeing a shift in the letters. He'd been offered a place at Hogwarts when he turned eleven, but his father had refused it. Every Price was a Watcher, and his son would be no different. But Wesley still had a tenuous grasp on magic, and had learned all that the Council would teach him. The fact that the translation in the scroll now was in question only proved Hermione right.

He spent long hours on his couch that night, head buried in his hands. He'd acknowledged on a primary level as soon as they had met that Hermione was pretty. He hadn't gone any further than that while they were all trying to get to know each other. Looking back now, feeling as he did, he could see a thousand reasons he should have paid more attention.

Her voice calling to him, as he lay on a used couch in a halfway house, slowly bleeding to death. He had no doubt he would have died if her spells hadn't contained the damage. He barely had a scar now, because of her care. She'd held his hand the entire time, crouched over him, casting spells left and right.

The absolute fury she'd been in, the night Angel came back to save them from the three eyed demon clan. While he'd been debating whether he should invite Angel in or not, she'd materialized behind him, and started fighting the demon that came through the window. She'd killed the demon without use of her wand, and turned on Angel, ready to do the same. Somehow, she managed to stay between him and the threat the entire time.

There was the unwavering devotion to Cordelia as she demanded that they rescue the seer from Lorne's home world. She knew as well as he did that they might not make it back, that they might share Cordy's fate on the other side, but she hadn't hesitated. And when her attempt at casting a shielding charm went dangerously wrong, she'd given up using magic and picked up a sword without a second thought.

The almost nauseating feeling in his stomach as she quietly, stoically, told them of her capture and torture at the hands of a madwoman. That she'd gone through that kind of torture and emerged not only sane, but committed to helping everyone she met was nothing less than heroic. And she'd proven to be that in the following hours, facing battle with as much determination as the rest of them.

She'd shown up at his flat not hours after Virginia had dumped him, created hot cocoa from scratch, and let him vent for hours without saying a single word. He fell asleep with his head on her lap, her hand drawing lazy circles on his back. When he woke the next morning, there was a plate of his favorite biscuits on the coffee table, and a feeling of contentment in his chest that he wouldn't have anticipated after a breakup.

Fred had left after speaking to him the day after Billy made him go mad. He was fairly certain she could hear him weeping through the door, but he'd been left alone all the same. Until twenty minutes later, when Hermione began banging on the door, threatening to apparate in if he didn't invite her. He'd been stubborn, and she finally knocked him backwards when she shoved the door open. He'd have fallen on his ass if she hadn't caught him, and they ended up tangled on the floor, her almost in his lap, for two hours as he sobbed. When he'd calmed slightly, she brought out a bottle of twenty year old scotch from her ever useful bag, and they'd shared it sitting on his living room floor.

He knew from speaking to the others that they'd had similar experiences. She was always there for them, when they needed her. She had gone to bat for Gunn with his gang, a tiny woman amongst many men with steel in her spine, ready to fight for her friend. She'd kept an almost stalker like closeness to Cordelia when Harmony had come back around, prepared to do what the rest of them were so reluctant to. Long nights had been spent with Fred, as she had been the first allowed into the crazed woman's room.

She had a proclivity for languages, and had picked up 'Fred speak' almost immediately. She was the only one for months that could sooth her, make sure she ate, reintroduce her to normal living. Fred had once told him that Hermione had spent hours just brushing her hair, letting her get used to being touched again, to being in the here and now.

She'd finally given way on her suspicion of Angel when Connor was born. She and Fred had been in the alley when Darla committed the most giving act she could, killing herself so that her son could live. While Angel and Fred retreated, taking the baby back to the car, Hermione had stood in the rain, wand in hand, and threatened Holtz. She'd stood alone, warning him away from the family, while the rest of them sat in relative safety.

Reflecting now, far later than he should, on how she'd helped them all with quiet dignity, no regard to herself, and asking nothing in return, he felt his soul crushed even further. How could he have doubted her? How could he have trusted a prophecy over the woman that he knew?

The others had obviously come to similar conclusions. The next day, they could barely speak to each other, so overwhelmed with guilt. Angel had retreated to a quiet corner of the lobby with his son. Fred and Gunn sat on a cushion, hands entwined and silent. Wesley remained in his office, the hated piece of parchment banished to the top of a bookshelf.

It took Lorne striding down the stairs to make them focus. "Well, now, my little pastry puffs! Finally seeing the error of your ways? Took you long enough."

He stopped at the doors, and adjusted a cuff. "I'd try apologizing first, before asking questions. She is still CRAZY mad at you. And I can't say I blame the girl." He fixed a glare at Wesley. "Especially you. I can't believe you yelled at her. And after what happened at the ballet? Better be glad she didn't just eviscerate you."

Wesley all but exploded out of his office. "You've heard from her?"

"Of course I have. You would have too, if you'd gotten your heads out of your asses and called her. It's too late now, though, she's out of the country. You'll just get her voicemail, and I think she's too pissed off to return a message. I did get an owl this morning."

When the rest of them looked at each other in confusion, he rolled his eyes. "A year she's been working here, and you haven't bothered to learn anything about where she's from. You're all a bunch of stinking ninnies. Pig!"

He snapped his fingers, and a tiny owl flew down from the ceiling, doing a triple loop and landing neatly on his shoulder. "She's right, you are a show off. This, ladies and gentlemen and those that are both or neither, is an owl. Witches and wizards use them to send mail. This particular owl belongs to a family that our own dear witch feels is as close to as her own. Pig here brought me a letter this morning, and he'll be here for the next few days. I'd try to think of a way to apologize before he leaves."

Turning to the door, Lorne paused at Wesley's desperate shout.

"Wait!" He hurried around the counter. "I need to talk to her. How-"

"You're on your own on this one. You've managed to screw this up in a phenomenal way, Wes. If I'd known back when I read her that you'd hurt her this badly, I'd have sent her back to England that night. I'm just glad I told her how to get back to her BFF."

"She said she was going to talk to her best friend. I thought… who IS her best friend?"

Lorne smirked at him. "You wouldn't know him. He's a wizard, and he's dead.

"Name's Severus Snape."


	6. Surprise Visits All Around

It was an exhausted and travel weary woman that fell out of the Headmistress' floo a full day after she'd stormed out of the Hyperion.

"Hermione! What a pleasure, my dear, we've all missed you terribly!"

"Thank, you Madam Headmistress. And thank you for letting me stay for a bit, I don't really have anywhere else to go, and I don't plan to be in the country for long."

"Nonsense, Hogwarts is your home, and it always will be. And please, call me Minverva. Would you like a cuppa?"

"Oh, that would be lovely, thanks. I've been travelling so long, and it's so hard to get a decently made cup of tea."

The two women spent a good hour catching up before the Headmistress finally asked, "So, what brings you back after five years, dear? We were starting to think you would never return."

"I'm having a rather difficult problem where I am now, and I needed to get some advice from a few people back here. I'm also thinking about moving back to the UK, after I get it sorted. Thought I'd put out some feelers."

"That's wonderful news. I know we'd all love to be able to see you more often. This problem of yours, is there anything I can help with?"

"I'm not sure yet, to be honest. I was hoping I could speak with the Headmaster for a bit, if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. It's just about time for my rounds as it is. When you're done, just call for Tinkly, he'll take you to your rooms."

"Minerva, you're a life saver. I can't begin to think how to repay you."

"I might be able to, but we'll talk about that later. Once you're rested, if you'd like to come to the Great Hall for dinner, we'll make sure there's an extra seat at the High Table."

The Professor took her leave, and Hermione took a deep breath before turning to face the portraits. Dumbledore twinkled down at her from his frame. "Now, my dear, what can I do for you?"

"Sorry, Albus, I'm not here to see you. In fact, it'd please me down to my toes if you'd just bugger off. I realize with your disturbing need to outdo yourself as a gossip, it's unlikely I can get some privacy, but a girl can hope."

"Well, I say." The painted image of Dumbledore made a show of hefting his robes and storming out of his frame.

"Goes for the rest of you too, though I don't really mind it if you stay Phineas. I've just spent the last ten hours in international travel, and I don't quite have the patience to be polite."

After a few more minutes of grumbling, the rest of the pictures cleared out. The last to try to leave gave her a snide look before turning.

"Oh, not you Severus. I've had to travel a hell of a long way just to say hello. And I had to endure mass portkey transit. You just sit right back down, and let's have a little chat."

"And why should I waste any time on you, Granger? Or, is it Weasley now? Have yourself a gaggle of red headed children to clean up after?"

She held up her left hand. "It's Granger. And it's Potions Mistress Granger to most. You know me better than that, Severus. Did you really think I'd ever be content as a housewife?"

The look on his face relaxed slightly. "I had hoped you would be more… ambitious than that."

"I'm ambitious all right. Got my title in Italy, travelled all over the globe looking for rare potions ingredients, and I speak about twenty three languages. I have oodles of ambition."

"What do you need from me, then?"

"I've learned to be pretty cunning in the last few years, but I have a dark magic problem I need help with. I thought collusion with two brilliant Slytherin headmasters would be the best option."

Severus leaned forward in his frame, canvas eyes glittering. "Tell me."

By the afternoon of the seventh day after Hermione made her exit, the remaining members of Angel Investigations were at loose ends. With both the witch and the seer gone, none of them new exactly what to do next. Usually Wesley would take control of the agency, but he'd proven to be almost despondent. It was for this reason that they were all gathered in the lobby when the front doors slammed open.

Angel and Gunn were on their feet, weapons in hand immediately, until they saw the group that had made a rather impressive entrance. There was a snotty looking blond man, who was shooting obviously disgusted looks around the hotel. Standing beside him was the witch they'd been missing. And Wesley immediately took a dislike to the tall red haired man that stood to her other side, but that may have been because he noticed the tight grip Hermione had on the gingers hand. And behind the three of them-

"Faith."

"'Sup, Angel. Been a while."

"Wait, that's Faith, the crazy slayer?" Fred's Texan drawl came out frightened. "Isn't she supposed to be in prison?"

"Yeah, I was. Then my girl here brought some sort of legal loophole stuff, said Angel was going all dark and shit again. Figured it'd be better if I was on the outside, case something went down."

Wesley took a step towards Hermione, and stopped abruptly when she took a half a step back, her other arm coming across her chest to grab the arm of the man next to her. The tall man glared at him, and Faith got right behind the witch.

"Nu-uh, Wes. 'Ne here said you were all being a bunch of tools, so that's a hands off. Sides, I'm pretty sure Red here's willing to hex."

The man did look quite willing to brandish a wand, if it wasn't for the death grip the witch had on his casting arm. Wesley tried again. "Hermione-"

"No. Just stop, Wesley," she said quietly. "Lucius?"

Pulling a wand out of an elaborate cane, the blond man quickly cast, in the most bored voice he could muster, "Accio False Prophecy."

The scroll came out of the office to land at his feet.

"I… didn't think of that. That would have solved all sorts of problems," Hermione looked stunned. They all watched as Lucius Malfoy picked up the parchment, holding it between a thumb and finger in disgust.

"My entire Manor was a museum for dark artifacts, this would barely touch the surface. But it's demon magic, not wizarding. It might take some time."

"I appreciate the help, Lucius. I'll be at the school if you need to get in touch with me."

He bowed slightly. "Miss Granger. Mister Weasley. Miss Lehane." He then turned on the spot and disapparated away.

"What the hell is going on?" Angel growled.

"Long story made very short? That prophecy was a complete fake. This is a real prophecy." She opened her bag and pulled out a glowing orb. "This one was made four nights ago, and it says what would have happened if I hadn't intervened. Believe me, you don't want to know.

"I called in some favors. Lucius is going to see if he can't undo the dark magic on the scroll to find out what the true purpose is. Faith is going to help make sure you lot don't do anything stupid. And George is here to help me pack up my potions lab for transport. Then the three of us are leaving."

She and George started towards the stairs to the kitchen, Faith trailing not far behind, and paused as they passed Angel. "Also, your blood supply has been tainted, it's why you're acting all wrong in the head."

She and George continued on. Faith looked at Angel and Wesley for a minute. "Don't know what you people did to piss her off so bad, but I'd find a way to make it up to her. I don't think she's the type of chick you want for an enemy."

"Us people?" Angel asked. "I thought you were one of 'us' people."

"Might have been. 'Cept for one thing."

"And what's that?"

"In the last twelve months, only one person's been to see me every two weeks for visitation. And that's her. Only one to see me at all, in fact. She's got a place I can go for rehab that ain't sitting in a cell. She gave me a choice. If I want to get better, she's my ticket."

Faith meandered downstairs, and the four people remaining couldn't make eye contact with each other. Angel went upstairs to take Connor off Lorne's hands. Fred and Gunn went outside into the small courtyard. Wesley stood alone for a minute, and broke into a brisk stride towards the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall to the kitchen, he could hear laughter. His chest tightened as he recognized the voice.

"No, really George, you nick any of my ingredients, and I'll have to hurt you. I spent a lot of time on that research, and I'll not have it going into a Wheeze!"

"Oh, come on 'Mione, imagine what we could come up with if we went into business together! Half this stuff you can't find anywhere on the market since the war."

"Don't call me 'Mione, I haven't suddenly started liking it since school. And I'm not quite insane enough to go into business with you, last time I agreed to try one of your products, I ended up blue for three days."

"That was just a prototype. If we had a REAL Potions Mistress on staff-"

"The whole reason I asked YOU to come with me today was that Severus said you were one of the most brilliant Potioneers he'd ever seen. Completely uninterested in study, mind, but brilliant."

"Yeah. We were."

"Oh… George, I'm sorry. It's just… most of the time, it's so hard remembering that he's gone. It's almost like, I'm going to turn a corner at school, or at the Burrow, and he'll be right there, trying to find a way to sneak me a canary crème."

"Yeah. Good ole Forge. Well, no getting maudlin, where did you get Moroccan scarab eyes?"

"In Morocco."

"That'd be the place. You know, if I could just have a couple of teaspoons-"

"NO, you git." But she was laughing.

Wesley leaned on the doorframe, watching the conversation. He knew Faith had noticed him, but she hadn't looked up from where she was poking a stirring rod at the bubbling top of a cauldron. George saw him first, and the grin on his face immediately dropped as he pulled his wand. The movement alerted Hermione, and she jumped between the two men.

"George, don't. It won't help."

"I don't know exactly what happened here, but I know these people were big enough arse's that you ended up back home, begging help from people like Malfoy. I think some hexing is in order."

"No, it's not. It was the prophecy, Lucius and I agreed it had to have some sort of compelling charm on it."

"No, Hermione, I don't think we can entirely blame the papers for us all acting like complete wankers," Wesley said.

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

George tried to take another step forward. "No, stop it. You-"she pointed at Wesley. "Out in the hall, right now. You, packing. Now. Don't make me owl Molly," she threatened George.

As soon as he went back to carefully storing her phials, she exchanged a look with Faith, rolled her eyes, and followed Wesley into the hall.

She stalked out through the doors, immediately starting a rant. "What the HELL do you think-"

Her well prepared speech was cut off when he pulled her into a hug tight enough that it made some of her ribs groan.

"Where have you been? We've been so worried! I'VE been worried!"

She startled to struggle to at least free her arms. "I was fixing the bloody mess the rest of you wouldn't deal with. Again. And it's the last time, too, I'm not going to keep dealing with idiots, and WOULD you let go."

"No."

"I BEG your-"

Again, she was cut off; this time by him pulling away long enough to cup her cheek, tilt her head up, and bring his mouth down on hers.

She very seriously considered biting him.

She didn't have time. It was only a brief kiss, and then he was resting his forehead against hers. "I said, no, I'm not letting go. I was a fool to do it in the first place, and I've spent the last six days miserably regretting it. I won't let go again."

"Well, you're going to have to. I've had offers, and I'm not staying here."

"You mean like that red head that you were attached to earlier?"

"You absolute prat, I was TRYING to keep him from hexing you. I meant job offers. Paying one's where I get treated respectfully. By the way, that red head has four brothers that all think of me like a sister the same way he does, so I'd watch the accusations you throw at me. Ron'll thump you if you're mean to me, and I'm pretty sure Charlie would be willing to sick a dragon on you."

"Sounds fascinating. I can't wait to meet them."

"You… what? No, that wasn't a bloody invitation."

"I'm English too, it's not as though I never go home."

"You haven't been back in longer than I had."

"I'm a fairly talented sorcerer."

"You're a Watcher that's already proven to be susceptible to black magic."

"And yet you're taking the 'dark Slayer' back with you."

"She was a teenaged girl that had no support. You of all people shouldn't be trying that card."

"Can you really stand there and tell me that what happened at the ballet meant nothing?"

She finally managed to shove him away. "I know what happened after did."

Pulling her over robes from her shoulder, she exposed the barely healed scar from that night. Once she was sure he'd recognized it, she pulled her skirts up to mid-thigh to show the still wrapped wound there.

"Gunn wasn't the only one injured that night. He was just the only one anyone cared about. He got what you wanted. I'll not be anyone's back up choice. I'm not going to fill in for not getting what someone else really wants. Not again."

She turned and thrust her way back into the kitchen. From the nonchalant poses George and Faith were assuming, she guessed that they'd had their ears pressed up against the door the entire time.

"We done? Good, we're leaving. The Portkey should activate thirty seconds after we all touch it."

George shouldered the magical rucksack, and Hermione pulled a goblet out of her bag. Trust a Malfoy to have to make a Portkey so gaudy. She mentally counted down until the transport activated, and when it did, she could tell something was off. It wasn't until they landed at the edge of Hogwart's wards that she realized there were four of them instead of three.

She stared down at Wesley in shock. He had landed upon the ground, having never used that method of travel before. She imagined Faith had only kept to her feet because of her slayer prowess. She glared at him for a minute, mouth not articulating.

She then spun on her heel, and started up the road towards the castle. Muttering could be heard over her shoulder.

"Dude, she's got a wicked cranky on. What language is that?"

George helped Wesley up. "No idea, but you're right about her being angry."

"It's Mandarin. And she's currently disparaging several of my ancestors."

Faith finally looked past Hermione at the school. "Fuckin A, man, that's a serious castle."

"Indeed, Madam." George offered her his arm. She snorted, and started following after the angry witch. George and Wesley trailed after her.

"I don't know how, mate, but it's going to take a lot to get back into her good graces. You'd better mean it if you're going to try. And you'd better be serious about her, because she wasn't wrong about all my siblings loving her like one of our own. Ron and Charlie and even Bill will try to take you to pieces, but not me and Percy."

"No?"

"No. I'm an inventor. I'll find something far more painful and long lasting. And Perc? He isn't quite the same since the war, but he's always been into his research. I'm pretty sure we could make it last centuries."

"For the record, I've pretty much come to the conclusion in the last week that I don't want to live without her. Hence my impromptu trip to England."

George clapped him on the back. "Scotland, man. And I'll see what I can do about you making it up to her, but if it doesn't work, you don't breathe a word of it. She'll take us all apart."


	7. Stalking Old Ground

Between the scowl on Hermione's face, and the raw danger that Faith exuded, the students barely even touched the hallways the women were striding down. By the time they made it to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office, both were having a difficult time not grinning. Once the halls were clear, they both looked at each other and burst into laughter. They both needed it. While waiting for the Headmistress to invite them up, Faith started speaking hesitantly.

"I ain't gonna get in the middle of this dog and pony, but Wes is a pretty good dude. I'm sure whatever ass hat backwards shit he did, he didn't know better."

"It wasn't his fault, Faith. I should have known not to fall for someone I can't have. And they fact that he's in love with Fred-"

"Wait, that tiny Texas chick? No way. She ain't even got flair, man. Give it a week, he'll be all over your seriously bitchy ass."

"He's had a year Faith. He didn't even see me until he no longer had a chance with her. It's okay. I've been through this before."

"What, had some dude chase you halfway across the world cause he's that into you? I need to hang out with you more often."

"No, but I've fallen for the best friend that never saw me. I spent almost a decade in love with someone that would never love me back. I won't do it again."

The stairwell finally opened, and the women ascended to the Headmistress' office. Around the corner, George wound in his pair of extendable ears.

"Well, that makes this easier."

Wesley had his eyes closed, head pressed back against the stone wall. "How is that, exactly?"

"Problem one is solved. She already cares about you."

"And she's already decided I'm too in love with Fred to feel anything real for her."

"Do me a favor. Call her Winifred. And we'll just have to make sure Hermione sees otherwise. Sounds like you've already got the slayer on your side. And I just might have a few ideas that'll help."

"Why do I think I never should have agreed to your assistance?"

They made their way up to McGonagall's office, and found the three women having tea. Hermione introduced Wesley to the Headmistress.

"I'm terribly sorry to intrude further, Minerva, but I wasn't expecting another guest. Is there any way we could get some rooms for Wesley?"

"Of course, but you know yours are a suite?"

"I do, Faith is going to be staying with me until we get her settled wherever she suits."

"I assume, Miss Lehane, that you will be content with Hermione showing you the castle and the grounds until you are more familiar? The castle itself will design you rooms wherever you wish, but you might desire to get a better grasp of the feel of it before deciding."

"Honest, I'm just really thankful you guys are letting me crash here. This is wicked."

"Wait," Wesley interjected. "Faith is staying here, at the school?"

Hermione straightened her shoulders. "She is, as am I. The Headmistress offered to let me take over my former experimental potions lab, and I've accepted. Although, I have NOT accepted the teaching position." She followed the last with a pointed look at Minerva.

"It's just a thought, dear. Having a fully accredited Potions Mistress in the castle will already make the Board of Governors happy, but you can't help me pushing for my top student to fill a much needed vacancy."

With a slight blush, Hermione inclined her head in acknowledgment.

"Well, I'll just pop off to arrange something for Mister Pryce. Mister Weasley, I'm assuming you're going to floo home."

"Yes, ma'am, I've got to open the shop tomorrow. You won't mind if I visit every once and a while, will you? Just until Hermione and I get caught up?"

"Not at all. And Hermione, dear? I'm not sure what you said when you left the other day, but none of the portraits are willing to be in the office when you come by." The stern look turned into a wry grin. "You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

"I will. We'll just wait here for you, then?"

The Headmistress left, followed by George with a promise to stop by soon. Hermione gave it a good minute of silence, before she stood up and faced the empty frames.

"All right, Severus, what did you say?"

"I? I said nothing. It was Albus that wouldn't shut up. He kept calling you names. Phineas finally blistered his ears."

Faith and Wesley watched in stunned silence as Snape wandered back into his frame and sat down. Hermione smiled.

"Why, I didn't know Headmaster Black cared."

Snape snorted. "He usually doesn't. He has, perhaps, taken a liking to you."

"Well, I am likeable. Oh, Severus, I'd like to introduce you to a couple of people. This is Faith, the Slayer we spoke of. And this is the Watcher, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

Severus looked down his nose at both. "Adequate, I suppose. I do not remember the plan including the Watcher."

"No, he really rather included himself."

The two shared a series of looks, including raised brows, smirking, and eye rolling. Finally they both smirked the same eerie smirk, and Hermione turned. "Faith, Wesley, this is Severus Snape. He was my Potions Mentor, and is still my best friend."

"Dude, your best friend's a picture."

"My best friend died in the war, and this portrait is all we have left to communicate with. Besides, he's the one that came up with the idea of involving Lucius Malfoy in this whole mess. It was also his idea to get you out of prison, so be nice."

"Hey, I got no beef with the two dimensional goth. 'Specially since it help me get sprung. Is there any way we can get out of here, though? No offence Snapish, but it's sun shiny out still, and I ain't over my jail bird ways. If I can go run around, I'll be happy."

"Of course. Severus, I'll see you soon. If you two will follow me, I'd like to introduce you to another dear friend."

As they left, Snape's portrait called behind them, "If he still has that mutt, take a towel."

When they got to the hallway, Faith took off at a sprint. Wesley offered his arm to Hermione, who took it after a moment of hesitation. They followed the slayer in silence, and he finally asked, "Are you all right? You're a bit wet around the eyes."

"I am. Severus… We worked together for almost two years, but it wasn't until after he died that I found out he held me in such high regard. It's nice having his portrait to talk to, but Faith's right. It's not the same. I had two best friends all the way through school, and I hate to say it, but I'd give up almost every minute with them to have more time with Severus. It wasn't until he died that I realized how superficial my friendship with Harry and Ron was."

He squeezed her arm. She took in a shaky breath. "A couple days after the final battle, we were all here, at the castle. Harry and Ron hadn't even spoken to me since the end, and I went to my, our, laboratory, all alone. And I found the apprenticeship papers Severus had drawn up for me. The last year of the war, he'd been cast as a villain, but he was still looking out for me. For my future."

He turned and hugged her as a couple of tears spilled over. She rested her head against him, trying to calm herself. "I just wish- no. I don't wish. I know better. I'm just sorry that I watched him die, and all I could do was give him the little bit of comfort that I knew he was on our side. He deserved so much more."

She took a moment to compose herself. "Sorry. It's just, being back here. Half of it looks just like it did when I was a student, and I'll always remember it like that."

"And the other half?"

"The other half remembers seeing Colin Creevy's body lying just over there. And I don't know if that'll ever go away. That's why I can't take the teaching position. I can barely eat dinner in the Great Hall, for remembering all the fallen. It's why I left in the first place."

"It wasn't what we assumed, was it?"

She pulled away. "I have no idea, what did you assume? Shall we keep walking?"

"We fight wars in LA. It's three, or four, or six of us. We thought with it being three of you, it was like what we do. It wasn't, was it?"

"Unless you count two generations and hundreds, if not thousands of casualties that you knew? No, it wasn't the same.

"I'm sorry, and maybe that's the part I could never reconcile. Angel will never get it. They aren't wars. They are battles. Until your entire world is challenged, it is nothing. A small contingent of Wolfram and Hart isn't a challenge. I could take them out in a day. What we faced-"

"You told us that day in Pylea. If your side had failed, our world would have been destroyed, with no hope of fighting back, because there wouldn't have been a way."

"Oh, there would have been. It was just too horrible to think about."

"No."

"Pureblood wizards have no idea about nuclear warheads. The wars could have stopped. But between that, and the magics in place?"

"I did a paper on mixing technology with magic when I trained at the Council. It would have wiped out the planet."

"Many of them, in fact."

Faith took the opportunity to finish her second lap around the lake. "Where's this friend I'ma meet? 'Cause I have a wicked craving to get into that woodland over there."

"That's why I wanted to introduce you, before you went into the Forbidden Forrest. There are a lot of creatures in there you can't slay. And my friend is the… well… he can identify them. But if a swarm of spiders come at you?"

"Totally slay, got it."

The three made their way to an empty cabin. Hermione let out an ear piercing whistle. "Faith, don't kill him, but if you could catch him before he dumps me on the ground, that'd be lovely."

The Slayer had her concerns about being bitten by the giant boar hound that came lumbering out of the woods at them, but when she got him round the neck, she was in love. "And how are you, doofy thing?"

"Fang's not got nerves, but he's giant amounts of loyalty."

Faith tried to stand up. "Then, he's in the wrong place."

She was knocked back down by the dog. "The FUCK, man?"

She was lifted by the back of her shirt, and set on her feet. "Don't mind Fang, none. He's just a slobbery beast, won't do no harm. Sorry 'bout the shirt though. Shouldn't have done that."

Hermione beamed. "Hagrid!"

"'Ermione!" he swung her around the previously agreed upon three times. Any more than that, and she got sick, they'd found out.

"Good ter see you! Sorry 'bout your friend!"

"Oh, I think she'll be all right. This is Faith, Hagrid, she'll be going to do the Forest visits with you."

"Sorry, then, you'll have to get used to the shirts. If Fang decides he likes you, that's all there is to it. He might not follow after you in there, never can tell. He likes a person straight off or not, but he's a giant baby when he gets scared.

"So, what're your feelings about creatures and such?"

Faith gazed at the half giant. "Well, I'm a slayer, so I'm pretty down on vamps. Anything else, as long as they don't try to kill me or hump my leg, unless I'm told I gotta off em, I'm good."

Hagrid beamed at her. "Well, all right then. Don't know why they gave you so many problems over in the 'Mericas. You want to start now, or wait till tomorrow?"

She gave Hermione a look. "I might not make curfew, mom."

The walk back to the castle was awkward. She had never thought about what would happen if Wesley refused to let her leave, if he insisted on following her. That sort of thing didn't happen to her. She was the one left in the library during term, by herself in the girls dorm when her cat was accused of killing Scabbers, wandering the halls alone when Harry was learning of horocrux lore and Ron was trying to shag half the school. She'd heard it took Harry and Ron a week to even notice she was gone, at the end of the war.

Wesley was trying not to push her, she could tell. But he seemed to have that fierce determination she'd seen before going into fights, where bravery was more important than believing you were going to win. She had no idea how to address this, so she did the only thing she could think of.

She made sure they were never, ever left alone.


	8. Finally On the Same Page

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had gone to the Watchers Academy. He was drilled in discipline, studiousness, and above all else, the ability to accomplish his goal, no matter how long it took. He could be endlessly patient. He had no qualms about giving Hermione the time she needed to give him another chance, if she would ever be willing to. He held out hope that she would.

He'd just like to be able to have one bloody conversation with her.

When they'd gotten back to the castle that first day, Minerva had appeared and ushered him to his set of rooms, three hallways from the suite Hermione and Faith shared. Since the moment they separated, he hadn't had a second of her time to just himself.

He had trouble finding her a lot. He spent quite a bit of time in the Library, completely fascinated by the difference in wizarding magic and sorcery. Only once had he encountered her there, returning a book to Madam Pince. He'd followed her out, hoping to catch her alone, but they'd run into Filius Flitwick on leaving, and the two of them just HAD to catch up.

Every morning after breakfast, the Headmistress invited them all to her office for updates and conversation. Faith usually took the opportunity to go to the Room of Requirement to spar, and he and Hermione ended up together with Minerva. While he did enjoy the conversations, and the lightheartedness the women shared, every damned day either someone would pop out of the floo looking for her, or there'd be someone waiting on their departure.

It only took him a day to figure out what was going on. And now, almost a week in, he was becoming discouraged. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd thought Fred returned his feelings. It was starting to look like he'd made the same mistake in thinking Hermione might feel something more than friendship for him as well.

Deciding to discuss with Minerva the necessities of leaving the grounds, just in case, he made his way back to her office. Although the staircase let him upstairs, no one was present. Taking the opportunity to be alone for a moment, he sat in one of the squashy guest chairs, and rested his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

He didn't notice the lone headmaster watching him carefully from within his brush stroked canvas. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he spoke.

"What did you do to her?"

Wesley's head shot up, and he stared at Snape's portrait. "You- what do you mean?"

Snape rolled his eyes, and gave Wesley a look that would have melted a third year into a sobbing mess. "You are not stupid, Watcher. You know what I mean. The Hermione Granger that returned to the school, demanding that I help her two weeks ago is not the same woman that is currently roaming these halls. She told me, about you, about the false prophecy. What have you done since then to make her so skittish around you?"

"I… We… It started at a ballet," and Wesley found himself pouring the whole story out to the picture. Maybe it was because she claimed the man was her best friend. Maybe it was because he didn't have anyone else to talk to. All he knew was that finally getting the words out of his chest and into the air made a world of difference.

Severus listened to it all with not one word, not a single question. As the story drew to a close, he stared at the disheartened man. "You don't deserve her."

Wesley snorted. "Of course I don't. But no one ever could, could they?"

The men stared at each other, neither willing to look away. Finally, Severus nodded. "You need to go. Now. She's in a dark place, and she does not realize how much she needs someone to be there."

"What? She's not hurt?"

"No, but she is about to do something she has not been able to bring herself to do in five years. She is about to disarm my laboratory- her laboratory- and enter it alone. She is too kind hearted to do so, to travel the memories of the time she had there, without support. I have been trying to dissuade her for days, and she has finally become determined enough to ignore me. She needs someone. She needs you, whether she'll admit it or not."

"How do I get there?"

When he got to the potions classroom, he found her standing with her eyes closed, hand on the doorway to the hidden room. She'd just let the last of the wards fall, and was reminding herself of the belief Severus had placed in her to get past that final line. She pushed it open, and took a step inside. Opening her eyes, she looked around for the first time in half a decade. Her heart caught in her throat, and her eyes filled.

"Oh, Salazar help me." Her knees buckled, and she threw out a hand to soften the impact. Arms wrapped around her waist, and she gently came to the ground, instead of the violent impact she'd expected. She let one sob escape, before trying to twist around to see who'd caught her. The strength in the arms bracing her against a chest kept her from turning, but she recognized them and the voice that whispered in her ear.

"Shh, love, I've got you. It's all right, I've got you, I'm here."

Like the night in his flat after Billy's attack, she ended up mostly on his lap. This time it was her sobbing, with him giving comfort. Once she'd covered them both with tears, she was finally able to ask how he'd found her.

"Severus told me. He didn't want you coming here for the first time by yourself. Why wouldn't you ask me, Hermione, I'd have been here in a heartbeat? And why have you been avoiding me? The truth, please, I made my own leaps of logic in the last few days, and your best friend seems to think they're the wrong ones."

She sniffled, sulking slightly. "Last time we did this, I brought a two hundred dollar bottle of scotch."

Smirking, he pulled her wand out of her sleeve. "Accio Firewhiskey."

A pristine bottle flew across the room to land neatly in his palm. "I think I'm getting the knack of this wanded magic."

"Wesley! How? That's amazing, and with another person's wand! How did-"

"No, I asked questions first, and I provided the liquor. Answer mine, please, and we'll get to the rest."

She took the bottle out of his hand. "That's Severus' own stash. He really must have taking a shine to you. No dust, either. His personal house elf must still be cleaning the lab, none of the others knew it even existed."

"You're avoiding the topic. Why are you shutting me out?" He whispered the question against her hair.

"Because you shut me out first!" she forced his arms away, and jumped up from the floor and clomped over to a shelf. "Because I thought we were friends, but none of you gave a damn about anything I said or did after we got back from Pylea." In the opposite of her almost shouted words, the cauldron she selected was gently set over a low flame. The base was added from memory. "Because I've had to watch you idiots moon over each other like sixteen year olds.

"Because you never really let me in to begin with. I've never really been one of the team. You knew you needed me, in a superficial way. You didn't trust me, though."

She added three drops of Murtlap into the low simmering cauldron, eyes fixed on the bottle, stirring rod in hand.

"There was no reason to be there, aside from the false prophecy, and I shouldn't have let myself get attached." Her potion turned purple, and she took it off the flame. Moving it towards the sink, she turned her back on the Watcher.

"I remember watching Fred and Gunn leave that night, the night of the ballet. Do you know what I saw?" he asked, moving slowly along the long lab tables.

"What you wanted. That was plain as anything. You've always looked at Winifred that way."

"I might have, and you aren't wrong. Do you know why I was so persistent in questioning the prophecy?"

She turned, still stirring the potion. "You thought you were right. You wouldn't listen to me when I said it was nothing."

"I did think I was right. I thought Angel was going to hurt his son. I wanted to avoid that."

"So did I!"

"Yes, but I thought the best way to do so was to steal him away."

There was a determined count as she made three figure eights, one counter clockwise and added one drop of dittany. Once that was done, she put a stasis charm on the cauldron. Then she threw her stirring rod across the room.

"Are you BLOODY MAD? Steal Angelus's son? Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"We could have raised him together."

She paused for a moment. "No, that wouldn't have happened."

"No, I guess it might not have," he said, head bowed.

"I'm not going to make you hear it, you ass, but let me tell you what the true prophecy said. You were thwarted, taking Connor. Holtz got a hold of him, and no one had a happily ever after."

Sniffling a bit, she started bottling her brew, only then noticing what she'd made.

"You haven't gotten back to the first question I had about that night."

"I'm very busy, even more so if the castle needs me brewing without even asking. I don't usually do that without… you need to leave."

"That is not going to happen."

Turning on him, she tried to figure out a defense. "I'm busy. And you are in my private lab. Go away."

"No. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. You need to know about that night, because half this bloody problem you won't talk about came from it. The night of the ballet, when you were hurt. You know what you saw."

"We both agreed that I did."

"You saw me looking at Winifred and Charles. With longing, I remember you saying that part. And I said it was true. That's what I want. But not with Fred, you daft cow, I wanted what they had together. With you.

"That's why it made sense to steal Connor. All I wanted was to be with you, and the false prophecy made it seem like that was the best option."

She looked at him for a minute. "That logic made absolutely no sense. Care to rephrase it?"

"I love you, you stupid bint. I was willing to wait to say it, but you're being obtuse. I wanted to get around the prophecy by stealing Connor and raising him together, with you, as a family. That's why I was fighting so vociferously about it with you. But I know now, that was wrong, the prophecy was false. That was the wrong way to go, so, I'm following your lead."

He shook his head. "I'm not sure I can breathe regularly without you. I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

"What about the AI team?"

"We'll figure it out, together. I'm not going back there without you."

"Wesley-"

"Please, stop. Just… let me hold you. I- it's been a week since I could even speak to you… please…"

She let herself be folded in his arms then, but she still couldn't relax. "I want to believe you, Wes, I do. But… just two weeks ago you were in love with Winifred."

"No, two weeks ago I thought I was in love with Winifred. I then saw how she and Gunn complimented each other, and I further spent a week remembering how much I missed my best friend. I think I've loved you almost since that first night, when you took after that necromancer without pause. It was just easier to think I cared for Fred, probably because I knew in the back of my mind that it wasn't real.

"Talk to me, Hermione. You've been hiding from me, but all I want to do is be here for you, with you. Tell me what you're thinking."

She sighed. "I'm tired, and confused. I could use a cup of tea, or possibly a slug off that bottle of Ogden's. I've spent the last two weeks determined to let you go, and I don't know what to do now that I might not have to. I don't know how to deal with the idea that I might get what I want, I haven't before. I… don't know what to do. And for the 'Gryffindor Know-It-All', that's a frightening thing."

His arms tightened around her. "I've had the last two weeks to worry about never being close to you again. It's given me an extra push of courage, I think. I was so afraid I was going to lose you, Hermione."

He tilted her head up and considered her for a moment. "When I kissed you in the Hyperion kitchen, you thought about biting me, didn't you?"

As she flushed, he nodded. "I thought so. Tell me, if I were to try that again, would I be risking your incisors?"

"You may just have to hazard it."

"Indeed."

This time there was no desperation, no remnants of a shade to cloudy what was happening. The two spent long moments measuring each other with lips and tongues, with hands sweeping along backs and tangling in hair. When they finally broke apart, she rested her head on his chest while he buried his face in her hair.

"I meant what I said. I don't feel I can go back to LA. That false prophecy was what I had to fix from Cordelia's vision. I can't brew properly in a muggle kitchen, there aren't any natural ingredients-"

"I wasn't planning on going back. You've already accepted the lab here, and I'm not leaving without you. There's also…"

When he trailed off, she tilted her head up. "Also?"

He wouldn't meet her eye.

"Wesley," she started, cupping his cheek. "Is this about Faith?"

"I was never a proper Watcher to her," he said. "Maybe now, we have a chance. If- if I'm allowed to stay."

"Wes. I can, and probably will, kick you out of my lab when I need to brew, as I attempted today. But, you've quite taken away my ability to remove you from my life altogether. And Faith spoke highly of you. I think the two of you could have a fresh start here. But it has to be your choice. Not because of me, and not because of her. You'd just end up resenting us both for it."

"Will you go somewhere with me tomorrow?"

She blinked at the change in conversation. "Of course. Where do you want to go?"

"If I'm going to study proper wanded magic, I'll need a wand. Yours seems to work for me for simple spells, but I should get one of my own."

"Oh, Wesley," she smiled. "I happen to be friends with Mister Ollivander. Of course we can go. I'd like to take Faith as well, if you don't mind. I… had an occasion to speak with him recently, and I think the two of you might be interested in what he's dug up."

After a few more kisses, and a promise to meet in the Granger/Lehane suite after dinner to discuss the next day's outing, Wesley finally left Hermione alone to finish her brew, and to straighten up her lab. A couple of hours later, she began making her way from the dungeons up towards the main hall. She stopped in a slight alcove to look out the window, enjoying the clear view of the stars. She was trying to temper the hope in her chest, but it was struggling to break free. Maybe, just maybe, this time, she would actually end up with what she'd hoped for.

She turned slightly, meaning to head towards the Great Hall, and heard her name called from behind her. She swiveled, and grinned, seeing Harry rushing towards her. That grin turned into concern when he almost plowed into her. Then, her head was lost entirely as he simultaneously tried to hug her and shove his tongue down her throat.


	9. A Mental Block Is a Bad Thing To Waste

It took a good ten seconds of regaining her composure before she started trying to shove Harry away. When that didn't work, she punched him as hard as she could in the solar plexus. Gasping, he staggered back.

"Hermione! Why'd you do that?"

"Seriously, Harry, you're asking ME? Why the fuck did you do that? I haven't seen you in five years, and you decided a good welcome home was drooling on me?"

He ran his hand through his hair. "I missed you, is all. I knew you'd come back for me, though. And we can make a go of it now!"

Starting forward as if to try again, he backed off when she raised her fists and took a step away.

"What the ever living hell are you talking about? I missed you too. I thought I'd get a hug and an update on how things were going, not a slobbery snog."

"But, Hermione, I thought… You're coming back now, McGonagall said so. And Ron's dating some French Quidditch fan, so you're free, and I missed you, and you love me, right?"

He didn't notice her eyes narrow as he continued. "So, let's do what we should have in the first place. You don't want to be here, and neither do I, so we can go back to wherever you've been the last five years and start a new life. It'll be great!"

"Have you happened to mention this idea to your fiancée?"

"Well, Gin's going to play across Europe with the Harpies, I don't think she'll really care."

"She won't care that you're… aren't you supposed to be married three months from now?"

"It's on hold, the wedding. Her career is too important, or some other… thing. But you loved me, right? Pansy said you were in love with me. So, we should get married instead."

He made another attempt at a pass, and failed. "Harry James Potter, are you drunk?"

"Huh? No, I don't really like drinking."

"Then this is going to hurt. And, well, good."

The slap she dealt him was heard for two floors. The end result was him cupping his injured cheek and looking at her, shocked.

"'Mione! You smacked me!"

"I'd rather do a lot more than that. How dare you. How fucking DARE you? You are getting married to the woman of your dreams, you bloody git! How dare you jeopardize both Ginny and me because you have cold feet? If you don't want to get married, you ass, tell Ginny. And how dare you use the love I used to have for you to try to take advantage of me."

"Used to have… but… I thought you loved me!"

She'd learned to glare from Snape, and she used every bit of it. "I did love you, you useless excuse for a wizard! I still do, as a friend. But did you really plan on using the affection I had for you as a firstie to convince me to bleeding marry you? Are you really that thick?"

"But, Pansy said-"

"Right, believe what a woman that's hated both of us since we were eleven years old over your friend. I'm standing right here, you could just ask me what my opinion on the matter is."

The flush that was creeping from his face down his neck was a very definite clue that he was coming back to his senses. "So, Pansy was lying?"

She sighed. "It depends on what she said, Harry. Was I in love with you? Yes, a very long time ago. I've had time to grow up since then, and maybe it's time you did too. What was this whole scene all about? Because I very much doubt you decided you had some mad passion for me all of the sudden after thirteen years."

"It's a bunch of things," he said, scuffing the toe of his shoe along the stone floor. He couldn't look more like a chastised child if he tried. "Ginny decided to put off the wedding, then Pansy told me it was because of you, and I started thinking-"

"There's your problem, then. Steam start coming out of your ears?"

He glared at her for a moment, and then grinned. "No, I'm not Ron."

Despite her earlier distancing, she moved closer and ruffled his hair. "Idiot. When exactly did Ginny decide to post pone the wedding?"

They both moved to lean against the stones by the window, in an unconscious mirror of their school aged selves. He lightly kicked her shoe, and she kicked him right back. He ducked his head, reverting back to Harry Potter, bad with girls, asking his best friend for help.

"Erm… right after you turned down the owl to be the Maid of Honor. She said something about you not being ready, and then HER not being ready, and then she signed the two year contract with the Harpies."

"You might be the world's biggest doofus, Harry Potter. Did you ever think that maybe you and Ginny were rushing things?"

"That we were… no?"

"So, I turned down the request to be her maid of honor, because I wasn't ready to come back home. And did it ever occur to you that maybe she realized that she wanted to follow my lead for a bit, maybe live a tad of her own life before she settled down and started having little Potters? Have you two done anything in the last few years that wasn't getting ready to be married?"

"I trained to be an Auror?"

"And what did she do in that time? Besides finish school?"

"She's been living at the Burrow, and working off and on at George's shop. We really only see each other on the weekends. Well, until she left with the Harpies, now she's always gone."

Hermione stifled a snort. "So while you were out being the dashing hero, she's been stuck at the burrow with Molly. You know I love Molly dearly, but can you imagine being the only woman around with her and getting ready for a wedding to boot?"

He looked at her, and she was suddenly glad she'd turned down the teaching position. This must be the face that gave Severus that pinched look around his eyes. Complete incomprehension.

"Harry, I do love you dearly, as a friend. So I'm going to try to say this nicely. I know you love Ginny. And I know she loves you. But I don't know that you've given it the chance to find out if you actually like each other."

"I don't understand."

"I'm well aware of that. In the last, say, seven years, how often have you seen Ginny? How often do you spend holiday together alone, or even stay over at each other's places?"

He flushed again. "We don't spend that much time alone, it wouldn't be proper, Missus Weasley says."

"And you're planning on being married," she shook her head. "What you need, what Ginny has already figured out, is a longer engagement. You need time to find out if you really want to be together."

"But I love her!"

"And not twenty minutes ago you were trying to convince me to have you on. Bunch of contradictions, you are."

He looked stricken, but had no answer.

"Where is she now? With the team, are they in England?"

"No, I think they're in Spain."

"Right, my advice, which I'd really suggest you take- go to Spain first thing tomorrow. Get a hotel room close to where their practice pitch is; find a nice restaurant, maybe a park to wander around in. Then ask her on a proper date. When was the last time you two spent any time together, alone?

"I took her to the Leaky Cauldron when the Cannons won last month."

"So a pub, full of sports fans. Not exactly romantic, Harry."

"But we both like Quidditch!"

"Which is great, it's something you have in common. But you have to have more than that to make a relationship work, and you're not going to figure that out if her mum is shoving catalogs full of caterers under your noses every three minutes."

Harry lunged at her suddenly, catching her up in a hug. She would have huffed about the fact that her feet didn't reach the ground, but it was the same kind of hug she'd gotten used to receiving in school. This time, though, she didn't have the stone in her stomach that she had back then, the pain of being hugged by someone she desperately loved who didn't want her in return. She just had the slight unease of being lifted off the ground, and the happiness of being with her friend.

"I should have asked you sooner, 'Mione. You always did have all the answers."

"Call me Mione again and I'll smack you one. Again. Now put me down, you lump. You've got plans to make, and dinner should be in about half an hour. Go, woo your lady."

He popped a kiss on her cheek, grinned at her, and took off running.

She shook her head and muttered to herself. "Dunderhead."

"You sure you don't want that teaching post, yo? You're getting real good at acting like picture goth."

Faith came strolling around the opposite corridor, her arm linked with Wesley's, almost dragging him behind her.

"Should I ask how much of that you two caught?"

"Oh, I saw that Potter dude charging at ya, thought he might be a problem. Once you punched him, I figured you could hold your own, but we hung out in case he tried to pull some shit. Gotta say, my Watcher here didn't much like wizard guy trying to tongue you."

"I didn't much care for it myself. It all worked out, though."

"Yeah, you got wicked amounts of patience. I'd have put him through that window. Anyhow, I told Hagrid I'd help him with the thestrals before dinner, so I gotta bounce. See you there!"

With that, Faith bounded away, leaving Hermione and Wesley alone in the stone hall. She shook her head. "This day is NOT getting any simpler."

"It really isn't," he agreed.

"It could be, though."

"What do you mean?"

She closed the remaining distance, and slid her arms around his back, resting her head just under his chin. His arms came around her automatically.

"See? Simple."

They stood there for a few long minutes. Finally, Wesley spoke quietly.

"Faith was right. I didn't like seeing him with you."

"I was right too. I didn't like him doing it. Poor Ginny, seven years she's had, and she can't get a proper snog."

"I meant… I know I don't have any right, Hermione, but I don't… he was the one, wasn't he?"

She looked up at him. "The one, what?"

"The one that broke your heart? The one that you loved that didn't love you back? The one that's made you nervous about letting yourself care for me?"

She tucked her head back against him. "He was, a long time ago. I loved Harry from when we were eleven, and he hurt me time and again by not seeing it. But he's not the one that's making me wary of feeling for you, Wesley."

"So, there's another bloke I have to worry about charging in here to sweep you away?"

"Well, I haven't taken a census, but I don't think it's likely."

"Then, who-"

"Do you remember that day in Pylea, the one where I told you and Gunn about my scar, and how I got it?"

The arms around her tightened, and she felt him suck in a breath. "Yes, I remember. I still haven't gotten the rest of the details I want from you, but I remember that conversation clearly."

She swallowed hard. All of her Gryffindor courage and pride was about to go on the line, and all she had to keep her from running now was hope.

"Charles caught me off guard, I'd been sort of muttering to myself. To Severus, really, he's where I direct my thoughts when I feel foolish or confused or frightened."

"Which were you feeling at the time?"

"All three, I suppose. I'd just realized that I was in love with you, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. And I didn't think you'd ever feel the same, especially after Fred."

He went completely still, and silent. She took the fact that he hadn't released her as a good sign, but dread started rising in her stomach. For all of his earlier declaration of feeling for her, she couldn't be sure that she hadn't read him wrong. Especially in light of her annoying meeting with Harry.

"Wesley? If I've said something… I didn't mean to make you-"

"You love me," he said, in almost a whisper.

She nodded, the top of her head moving against his chin. "I do. Have done, for a while now. I only realized it that day before we rescued Cordelia."

The silence was killing her, and it took her a long moment to realize that the arms around her were shuddering. She tried to pull back to see his face, but he had her wrapped up so tightly, she couldn't move. So, she tightened her hold in return, digging her fingers into his back, and let him ride out whatever was troubling him.

"Wesley? Please, talk to me. You're scaring me. I can't help you if you don't talk to me. Please, sweetheart, just… give me some direction, here. I'm, I didn't want to upset you."

"Say you mean it," came his voice, rougher than usual. He finally loosened his grip enough that she could look up into his face. It was so troubled, and pained, his eyes glistening, that she couldn't not say the words.

"I love you, Wesley. I have for at least the last six months, if not longer. It was tearing me apart that I was going to have to be without you. I'm trying to be unselfish, giving you the chance to go back to LA, but all I want is you, here with me. Not Harry, not Ron. Not even Severus. I want you, here, with me, in the one place I call home."

Salt water ran down her cheek, and it took her a moment to realize they were his tears, and not hers. Her own eyes were ready to go as it was. She leaned up and pulled his head down, kissing his tears away.

"Oh, Wes, I'm sorry, please don't be upset. I didn't mean to make you unhappy, please don't-"

He cut her off, salty lips stopping her rambling. They exchanged what seemed to be desperate kisses, neither exactly understanding why.

Shortly in, Hermione heard a soft chuckle, and Ron's soft voice. "She seems fine, mate. Don't think she's all that hungry, actually. Or if she is, she's eatin' him. Might be likely, actually, seen any of them zombie movies lately?"

She maneuvered a hand slightly up from Wesley's back, and shot the boys a two fingered salute. They both sniggered, and sauntered away. That hand travelled up into his hair, and she let it wrap around the back of his jaw, to pull him away a bit.

"Think maybe we can take this somewhere else? I'm not inclined to perform to the audience I've had thus far."

He nodded, still not speaking, eyes downcast. She cast her mind to the best, closest place to go. The castle groaned, and she was one of the few that listened. She was a multi linguist, after all. She spoke Hogwarts. She took his hand, and they made their way to a small doorway. It opened into a sitting room that she'd never seen before, but she didn't hesitate in wandering in.

She deposited him in a large, squishy armchair, ordered up dinner from the house elves, and scooted the table closer to their position without letting go of his hand. Once the orders were in place, she planted herself firmly on Wesley's lap, legs hanging over the arm of the chair, and allowed herself to be folded up right against him.

"I'm here, Wesley, and I'm not going anywhere. Unless my feet go to sleep. You might need to help out there."

There wasn't even a small smile at that. It made her nervous. She thought about getting up, trying to rouse him with a game of wizard's chess, anything. In the end, they stayed that way. Finally, when she was about ready to start reciting potions ingredients, he spoke.

"No one's ever said that. Not to me. I didn't know."

She tucked her feet up, leaned back a little more on the chairs side to settle in. "What has no one said, Wesley? It helps if I know what ghosts I'm fighting. Unless it's something I've done, then it's best if you just tell me."

"No, heart, it's not you," he finally acted, pulling her closer. "It's not you, it'll never be you. You're too true to lie."

"Wes," she said as she kissed his temple. "I won't lie. You know that. I suck at lying, that's why I'm not good as bait. Or poker, for that matter. I ran last time, and I can't be proud of that, but I'm not running now. I love you," she felt the shake again, "and I'll be here as long as you need. Within reason, eventually I am going to need to run to the loo."

"No one has ever said they loved me before. Short of Cordelia's 'love you guys', I've never had someone say they actually cared, "his voice trailed off at the end, and his face went strangely blank.

She moved so she would be a bit more shuffled down into the chair, her legs pinning his and her torso trapped between the cushion and his chest. She felt his heart racing, and she laid her hand on it. His breath stuttered again. She cast a diagnostic charm, and was frightened by what she saw. She then grew determined.

"Wesley, you don't have to tell me anything. I love you, I know you, you're here with me, and that won't change unless you want it to. Wesley, can you hear me? I'm here, Hermione's here for you."

"Oh, gods forgive me, _Legilemens_ "

She found the love he had for Fred first. It didn't surprise her. Beyond that, she saw Cordelia, Gunn, even Angel. She wasn't bothered that she didn't appear, at first. Once it went beyond the first layers in his mind, she knew what it meant. Severus had warned her about entrapments, back when she'd been learning Occlumency. He'd trained her as best as he could, and she was angry and determined enough to force her way through to where Wesley's mind was locked away.

She meandered into Pryce Manor like she owned it. "Well, Look At This! Damned fancy, ain't it?"

Roger Pryce came at her, looking for a fight. "What right do you think you have? You are nothing, you will always be nothing!"

She looked at him serenely. "Are you speaking to me, or to him?" She looked down to the tiny three year old she had by the hand, who was trying to hide behind her skirt.

"Either way, you're wrong. You'll always be WRONG. You are NOTHING."

Hermione picked up the boy, and cuddled him to her. "No, sir, you are the one that is wrong. One day you'll figure that out. One day, when your wife and child have left you behind, you'll realize how much you really did love them, and you'll miss them. I feel badly for you. She is beyond the veil, and cannot be reached. Your son is not. He's still alive, and you can still try to make things better."

The child in her arms whimpered. She tucked him into her. "I've got you, Wes, just like you have me right now. We're here, together, and we're facing it, okay?"

She felt the return prod in her mind, and felt him melt in with her. Together, they faced Mr Pryce, as Wesley was never able to do alone.

"What did you really expect out of your child, Roger? A prodigy? A perfect Watcher? You got all of that. And it still wasn't enough for you, was it? You wanted someone as cold hearted and as broken as yourself, and he couldn't do it, could he?"

The toddler in her arms was clinging to her neck but looking at the Watcher with a serious face. She went on, hugging the child, "He would never have been good enough for you, because he cared. And you knew it. You sent him to Sunnydale to fail, didn't you? Rupert Giles failed because he cared, and you thought you could scare that out of Wesley, you sick fuck.

"The part that bothers me the most is that you haven't let go yet. You didn't think I saw that, did you? Oh Roger, shouldn't have let your son fall in love with a witch."

She set the baby on the floor, and crouched down next to him. "Wes, luv, that isn't your father. That's what he planted in your mind to make you afraid of failure. It's always there, just at the front of your brain. But he doesn't have to be. You can make him leave, sweetheart. Come back to me. I'm right here, and I'm going to help you. I'm here, please come back to me. Please, I love-"

Wesley rocketed up from the chair, almost dislodging her. He caught them both before they tumbled out of the chair. She didn't let the change of position alter her chant. "I love you, I know you, you're here with me, and that won't change unless you want it to. Please come back to me."

"I love you, I know you, you're here with me, and that won't change unless you want it to. Please-"

The last was cut off with his finger across her lip. "You went into my mind."

"I did. I'm so sorry, I'd never do that if I-,"this was stopped with a kiss.

"You were desperate. I know. And while I'm not exactly glad that the woman I'm intent on has just seen me as a child in nappies, I have to thank you for helping me with Father."

"You just, you went somewhere else when I said it, Wes. I was about to take you to the med ward, I was scared enough. I think he left a mental break in your mind."

"So do I. And you, my clever witch, got past it. I don't think anyone else could." He kissed her again. "Can that be the end of the dramatic for today? I don't know if I have any more in me."

"Salazar, I hope so. I already know tomorrow will be just as bad. Let's just stay here tonight. The castle created the room for us, it'll let us know if anything else is important."

They finally got around to eating the simple supper the house elves provided, and dozed off together on the couch. If they clung to each other throughout the night, no one saw but the elves, and the smirking slayer that draped a blanket over them in the early hours of the morning.


	10. The Morning After the Day to Come

A perky slayer woke them up earlier than they would have liked.

"It's almost eight, yo! You don't get down to the Hall, they're going to think I jigged my parole and offed you!"

Hermione lifted her head from Wesley's shoulder long enough to yell at the door. "You're a Slayer, you should be nocturnal, you crazy bitch."

"I ain't slept yet. And it's always party time somewhere! Come on, travelers, let's get rolling!"

As the slayer moved on, Hermione thumped her head back down on the watcher. "Is she on that muggle drug? The one they talk about on the tele?"

"Do you mean meth, or caffeine?"

"Yes."

Her muffled reply made him smile. "I suspect being out of a confined cell has yet to wear off. I'll take the responsibility for that."

Hermione turned her head to rest closer to his neck. "I think she'd be like that regardless, so don't start guilt tripping this early in the morning. It's going to be a long day, and I'd rather have a bit of a lie in first, if it's all the same."

They stayed cuddled together for almost a half hour, before the previously ignored fireplace danced with green fire. The witch rolled to a reluctant sitting position on seeing it.

"Oh, great Godric, what now? We haven't even gotten up yet, how's the day starting with a floo call?"

A dozen white roses in a vase shot out of the fire, coming to rest on the table in front of her. A sealed letter followed, settling next to the crystal vase. The fire then returned to its normal color.

"Huh," she murmured. She felt Wesley sit up behind her, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Who's sending flowers first thing in the morning? And should I be worried?"

"I have a suspicion, let me read the letter first. But I don't think it's a concern, I don't swing that way. Not unless she's really eloquent, then you can find a way to woo me back."

He slid off the couch, heading towards the washroom. "It wouldn't happen to be from Spain, would it?"

"I think it just might be. Now, go do your thing, and let me read my mail."

By the time he returned, she'd snickered to herself, tried to pull the snarls out of her hair, and performed a teeth cleaning charm. He insinuated himself back onto the couch behind her, chin back on her shoulder.

"So, how much wooing do I need to do?"

She leaned back into him. "Not much, unfortunately. Apparently, Harry took me at my word, and did exactly what I told him to last night. Ginny was so happy to have him do something honest and caring, she knew I had to be behind it." She handed him the letter.

_Hermione-_

_When you left so suddenly, I thought you were the most thoughtless girl on the planet. Sorry, you know I've always been blunt._

_I get it now, though. You needed time away, time away from all of it. I do too, and I didn't even know it. You could have told me!_

_Whatever you said to Harry, thank you. He's been so nice, and cautious, and concerned since the end of the war… and it's driving me bloody MAD! So when he showed up this morning and asked me out properly, with flowers and everything… I knew it had to be because someone gave him a shove._

_Thank you, for giving him a shove. I do love him, and I want to marry him, but this passive crap is getting old. Please feel free to shove him again, on my behalf, even if it means you bruise his chest. Again. Seriously, what did he do to make you that mad? I just have to know!_

_Love-_

_Ginny_

Wesley huffed into her neck on finishing the letter. "So, what sort of shove am I going to need? And who's going to deliver it?" He followed the question with tracing the column of her neck with his nose.

"Oh, I imagine I'll be pretty straight forward and combative, if you make me mad. Like always. We've always fought like rabid ferrets when we're really angry with each other. I can't see that changing." She leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder, throat exposed.

"Usually, yes. You left, last time."

"I didn't. Last time we fought was in my experimental potions lab yesterday. And we worked it out. If you're referring to when I left the Hyperion, I didn't leave, as much as go for back up. You were ensorcelled, you can't blame me for that."

He started to move away, and she caught his ankles with her feet, and dug her hands into his legs. "No, Wes, we don't need to go through that again. I love you."

She felt the tremor in his legs where her hands were fixed, and in his chest against her back. "I'm not leaving, Wesley. I'm here. We're here. I'm fairly certain, from knowing the castle as I do, that we could stay here, on this couch, for the rest of time if we liked.

A knock came from the door. She rolled her eyes, slumping against him. "Right. Way to ruin my moment."

He snickered, kissing behind her ear as she sat up. "Fuck off, Faith!"

"Erm… Hermione? Pomona said you'd be here."

Hermione stood up, shaking out her robes, and looked around at the room for the first time. There was a bathroom off one side of the sitting room, a kitchen further on, and what looked to be a hallway leading to at least one bedroom.

"Wesley? I think Hogwarts just gave us quarters."

"That would explain why your shampoo was in the shower."

"My- you couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"

"It was your shampoo. I then was sidetracked by your hair, and then your ear. Did you really mind?" He followed the statement with a demonstration, and she found that she really didn't. Until the timid knock at the door came again.

She turned and looked at Wesley. There was no way to mask the mussed hair, wrinkled pants, or brilliant gaze. She found she didn't want to. She nodded briskly, and moved to the door.

"So, the day begins."

She was stopped just before she reached the frame, and whirled around. She expected the lips that came down on hers, but she didn't know they'd be so soft. It was a brief, almost hesitant kiss, but it was enough to make her go from happy to gleaming. She beamed up at him, reaching a hand to ghost along his cheek.

"No matter what happens today, we can handle it."

"Together," he nodded firmly.

"Damned right," she said as she turned to open the door.

Wesley was glad he wasn't the type of man to get jealous. Otherwise, he might have had a problem with the way his witch immediately threw herself at the wizard on the other side of the door. The tall, shy looking man caught her in a hug, seeming both elated and uncomfortable at the same time. He gave her a careful squeeze, and set her gently on the ground.

"It's good to see you, Hermione."

"Neville, what are you DOING here? Not that it isn't great to see you, it is. Oh! I'm being rude. Neville, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley, this is Neville Longbottom, we were in the same year here at school, and we've been friends almost since day one."

The two men shook hands, and the name clicked for Wesley. This man was the son of the tortured Aurors he'd learned about in the Academy. He looked at the younger man with a new respect.

"Mister Longbottom, I've heard many good things about you. Professor Sprout has spoken at length of your proficiency at Herbology."

Neville blushed. "Pomona goes on a bit, sometimes. That's why I'm here, though. She's planning on retiring year after next, and she wants to train me up to be the next Herbology Professor. She's a bit protective of her Greenhouses, and wasn't willing to think about it until I'd gotten some practice in the field."

"Oh, Neville, that's lovely! Minerva's talked me into staying on as the school's Potions Mistress, and Wesley and Faith are staying with me too. Give us another year, and we can find places for half our graduating class!"

"Who's Faith?"

"She's…," Hermione started, trailing off when she realized she didn't really have a description for the Slayer.

"Right here, yo. Kitty Cat sent me to see what the holdup was. Who're you?" She looked Neville up and down like he was a piece of candy.

"Neville Longbottom, I'm-"

"Dude that plant lady's been talking about. Got it. I'm Faith, how's about we mosey on back to the Hall, and let those two change into something they weren't wearing yesterday. And you guys say *I* ain't subtle."

She turned and sauntered away. Neville stared after her, a perplexed and fascinated look on his face.

"Come ON, Nev, or that Flitwick dude is going to eat all the pancakes." He looked at Hermione and Wesley, shrugged, and took off after the brunette.

"Faith?" Hermione called after them. "Retail rules!"

She received a dismissive hand wave from the woman before the pair turned a corner and disappeared from sight. A moment later, arms wrapped around her waist, and a voice murmured in her ear.

"Retail rules?"

"Yes, she and I had a long talk our first day here. She breaks him, she's bought him. I can't let her go around crushing men's hearts all over the castle."

"That could prove to be problematic. She is probably right about our need to change before we face the rest of the staff."

"I did notice that the teachers are even bigger gossips than the students. Although, I doubt any of them would be very surprised."

They returned to the suite, and Hermione wandered down the hallway to explore. There was a small office, which she had expected. There were also two bedrooms, though the castle had obviously meant the smaller to be a guest room. Turning into the master bedroom, her eyes went wide.

The room was fairly dark, as the part of the dungeon they were in didn't have windows. She examined the wardrobe, which the house elves had already unpacked her clothing into. Wesley had only managed to acquire a few pieces since arriving, and they were also in residence. She'd thought that having him rebuild part of his wardrobe would be too much like inviting him to stay. Now, she knew it was.

She glanced briefly into the master bath, noting with delight the enormous bathtub. She was half tempted to throw the idea of breakfast out the window and climb into the tub for the rest of the morning. Beginning to seriously contemplate it, she felt Wesley come to stand next to her.

"Bloody hell, is that a swimming pool?"

"No, it's a wonderfully large bath the castle made available for a witch it knew would spend hours in the tub, given the chance. If we didn't have so much to do today, I'd be running it right now."

"I'd forgotten how much women adored lingering baths."

"Not all women, but this one certainly does. And you never know, when we have the time, I might be able to convince you to see their charm."

"That does make the idea seem more interesting."

His eyes darkened, and he backed her into the door frame. "Are we really that busy?" He punctuated his question by running his nose along her throat, and following it with a small bite behind her ear.

The little it took to make her breathless was a bit of a bother. "I wish we weren't. I-oh!"

It was several minutes later that she finally was able to push him away enough to finish her sentence. "We have to make a stop in Diagon Alley, at least. Possibly Muggle London as well."

"Do we?" he panted, obviously disinclined to agree.

"We really, really do. You need a wand. And more clothes, if you're staying."

He moved towards her when she started speaking, and hesitated at the end.

"You… so, you want me to stay. I-," he was cut off.

"How can you ask me that after last night? I want you to stay. The Castle wants you to stay. Faith wants you to stay. A good deal of today's agenda was made to make you and Faith feel at home here. I can't help it if the idea of showing you how to take a proper bubble bath makes me randy. I'm a grown witch, and we've been dancing around each other for half a year now.

"What time is it?"

He checked his watch, and found it didn't keep time anymore. "I have no idea. My watch was digital."

"We'll get you a proper watch while we're out. But, I expect Faith at the least will be showing up soon for our trip. Best go freshen up."

She turned to leave the bedroom, and her hand was caught. "Hermione, I don't have a spending account in your world. I can pawn off a few books to buy a wand, but I'm afraid I cannot accept your assistance on personal items. It's not fair, after we've taken advantage of your kindness in LA."

"Don't think on it. The wizarding world has a special account for Slayers and Watchers that find themselves in need in our businesses. Believe me; you will need no additional funding."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't have to worry about it. From here, we'll go to Gringott's to your vaults, and your only worry is helping me keep Faith from slaying the Goblins. Now go, get cleaned up, and let's see if we can't at least get tea before we leave."

"I don't-"

"Wesley. Trust me. Please."

"I do."

"Then go get cleaned up, before Faith comes hurtling down again."


End file.
